


A Blackbird Sings On Bluebird Hill

by natashawitch



Series: Were-Haven [6]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Pack Dynamics, Past Abuse, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:32:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natashawitch/pseuds/natashawitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A timestamp for the Haven stories.</p><p>A formal request to send representation to the first Cat Moot in a generation arrives at Tiree’s Pride-Pack. A second confidential missive from Wiltshire explains that the other Alphas have decided it is time to tackle the thorny issue of Misha and Jared’s old pride</p><p>Confronted head on by his past, Misha will need to delve deep and lean on the willing shoulders of his mates, family and Haven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Ahem, *coughs*, you know how the Haven stories were all finished and complete? *coughs again*, well this happened...
> 
> Disclaimer: Not true. Not real. All fiction. None of these fine actors are in relationships with each other. None of them are Were-creatures. 
> 
> I am constantly flattered that anyone likes my scribbles. I am also very protective of said scribbles. Recently I’ve had to engage with Goodreads to have some of my works removed, after they were posted without my knowledge. I love when my stories are rec’d, linked to communities, used for rp, or listed on tumblr or LJ. Thank you to those who have done so, but if anyone wishes to share, copy, translate, or post my tales elsewhere, please ask me about it first. 
> 
>  
> 
> The title is a line from Nik Kershaw’s song _The Riddle_  
>  “Sly looks in corridors  
> Without a plan of yours  
> A blackbird sings on bluebird hill  
> Thanks to the calling of the wild  
> Wise men's child”
> 
> Series titles have been provided by Shakespeare, Frost, Conrad, Longfellow, Vonnegut and Kershaw... just go with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW start.  
> A mini-chapter to begin.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The muscles of Eric’s back rippled under Misha’s thrusts. Glorious warm skin laid out before him to nip and lick and watch in distracted heated fascination. The beta panted in rhythm with the glide and catch of his erection between his alpha-mate’s thighs. Luminous beads of perspiration glistened on Tiger’s shoulders, his vestigial feathers quivered and invited Misha to bend forward and tug on the inky black pins with his teeth. The blond alpha buried his face into their pillow pile, propped on one elbow, his other hand stripping his cock in time with Misha.

“Meesh,” Eric pleaded, “So good. Come on.”

Tightening with breath hitching, Misha shook bodily.

“Almost, almost there, Alpha.” Not knowing what he was beseeching for he groaned, “Please.”

He could feel Tyler’s cool hands stroking him, making secret patterns, as if his omega love and he were engaged in cat-form washing snuggles. 

“It’s my turn.” Tyler’s giggles thrilled and hummed, slipping in to bubble like champagne at the lip of Misha’s ardour consumed consciousness.

“Wait your turn!” Eric squawked, muffled by foam and cotton.

Coming breathless with joy and laughter was wondrous. Misha decorated his alpha’s butt cheeks in pearly spend, bending to lick a smutty salty stripe before throwing his body dramatically to the left to flop down on their enormous mattress, watching in afterglow bemusement as wee Tyler attempted a growly climbing crawl up their alpha’s back. Eric surged upwards, flipping and catching the omega in an acrobatic display that had blue smiling eyes meeting Misha’s blissed out observer’s stare. 

“Want you Tiger. My turn.” Tyler pleaded.

“My Petal. My Mish. My perfect mates.” Eric babbled words of love and need.

The scent of sweet inviting slick filled their lungs, as Eric wrapped Tyler’s legs around his waist and pushed his straining cock home. In the shortest gap of phased out lost time, two sets of lips nipped and pressed kisses to Misha’s chest, his neck, his mouth. All three sated Weres curled together, spaghetti limbs drawing Misha close and tight in from his preferred position at the edge. 

At Haven Inn soda bread was served with warming soups. Their dessert fridge was full for evening service. Ian winked at the ladies from behind the bar. Mark walked the distillery floor. At Haven Health, the reflexology clinic had tended to its last client of the day. Bright sunlight slanted through arched art deco stained glass window panes. Big seas ran high along Tiree’s rocky shore, the only remnants of two blustery rain sodden days.

To be joined by both his mates for post-lovemaking afternoon naps was a luxury, a welcome indulgence, appreciated in soft omega purrs, encompassing alpha hugs and soft breathy beta sighs.

“Mom? Mish? Dad?” Amelie roared from below.

“Are you up there?” Janette’s shout joined her sister.

“Guess they’re home from school.” Tyler gave a mild whine. “I’m comfy and warm.”

Misha’s chest vibrated with silent laughter. He called out, “We will be down soon.”

“But Jake is here!” Both girls called back in unison.

“Visit from the Senior Omega,” Eric intoned with exaggerated gravity. “You guys better jump to it. You know what Grandtata would say if you keep him waiting?”

“He’d say you are a meanie alpha for kicking your omega out of his warm nest.” Tyler teased in return, putting on a fat lip pout.

“And Gramps is here too.” Amelie bellowed.

Eric leaped out of bed looking frantically for his trousers. 

Misha and Tyler rolled back onto the pillows, wheezing with laughter. Misha snickered, “You’d think we were having an illicit affair.”

“Or had sneaked away to have sex in the middle of the afternoon,” Tyler flittered at his O-shaped mocking shocked mouth with his fingers. “I bet Jake and Mark never indulge in hot passionate steamy mating in daylight hours.”

“Na na na na na,” Eric stuck his fingers into his ears, “No talking about the Dad-sex... them’s the rules.”

“We forgot.” Misha put on his best innocent voice. The rule had been instituted after Eric had blundered into a particularly graphic, with Picasso-esque selfie evidence, Pellegrino mates’ discussion one summer evening in Hallstatt. 

Misha helped Tyler to his feet. While Eric was buttoning his shirt and sniffing his black V-neck cable knit for freshness, the other two met eyes in silent agreement that the visit of their much loved In-Laws did not mean they had to dress for the outside world. Tyler put on soft sweats and his overly long sleeved teal coloured wool tunic. Misha grabbed his old jeans with the thick aubergine sweater he had worn the previous evening.

Eric preceded them, thumping down the wooden staircase to their open plan chapel ground floor. Tyler’s slender hand found Misha’s and gave a gentle squeeze.

“Guess that’s the end of our sneaky nest holiday,” Tyler bumped his mate’s shoulder.

“Those are the joys of living in a pride full of best friends and family.” Misha commented with a smiley head tilt.

“And we wouldn’t change that for the world.” Tyler’s wide honest eyes gazed up replete with affection.

Answering his agreement with a silent hand squeeze, Misha filled with gratitude and love for his family and for his pride-pack. His life in Piseagard and Tyler’s experience with Marches and Wiltshire gave both were-cats deep appreciation of Haven, not always voiced but never forgotten.


	2. Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up. This is dialogue heavy but I think (hope) it works.

Once cheek kisses were exchanged, Eric set about brewing a pot of coffee. Jake sat close to Mark on the sofa chatting to Janette who perched on its arm. Tyler marshalled their cups and plates, while Misha delved into the spice cupboard for his secret tub of pistachio macaroons. He arranged them on a serving plate, fighting off grabby fingers and Amelie hanging off the end of his sweater with pleading eyes.

“Didn’t know they were in there.” Eric licked his lips at the neatly placed treats.

Misha tapped the side of his nose before reaching to tap the side of his alpha-mate’s nose, “If I revealed my after dinner treats, they would never last until our evening meals.”

Eric chuckled, grabbing Misha around the waist and planting a loud smacker on his brow. The beta modified his toothy grin into something more dignified as he carried his offerings to their low coffee table.

Their wolf omega friend hummed in hungry anticipation. “These must be the prettiest macaroons yet.”

“There were more macaroons?” Tyler gasped.

Misha lightly backhanded Tyler’s arm, “For the Inn, Petal. Jake taste-tested a few deformed bakes.”

“Any and all deformed bakes should come over to Haven Health. Sandy and I get hungry, you know?” Tyler batted his eyelashes.

Shaking his head at his mate’s playful tactics, Misha listed other places his below standard items might end up, “Or to the distillery, or Ty’s office, or in Janey and Amelie’s lunchboxes, or in Jaroslaw’s stomach...”

“Noooo Mish,” Janette piped up, “Uncle Jared’s tummy is bottomless, you always say so...”

“... and then we’d never get any cakes.” Amelie threw her arms into the air with all the pre-teen drama a nine year old could muster. 

Looking around and realising who was missing, Misha enquired with thinly veiled disappointment, “Where’s Arden?”

Eric’s tiny half-brother was the most adorable pup with his raven dark wolf-pelt, softest chest feathers, and wee pink tongue and nose. Misha liked to tease Jake that he could make a fortune by using his stitchery business to launch the Arden Plushy Toy on the market. The littlest omega was supremely affectionate, enjoying nothing better than curling in wolf form on Misha’s lap whenever the families got together. There was a dreamy corner in his mind where Misha liked to imagine what it would be like to cradle a raven feathered kitten of their own, if the Goddess ever blessed Tyler.

“Damson is holding court.” Mark’s lips twitched.

“Honestly,” Jake explained between nibbles to his macaroon, “he is treating the plastic doll, which the school entrusted to him for the week, like a real pup. I’m not allowed to help unless I’m correcting the way he is burping it or swaddling the toy.”

Misha could tell that the older omega was not truly complaining. Pride beamed from Jake’s eyes. He lit up at every one of Damson’s achievements no matter how large or small. In the three years since Stephen and Aubrey had become Lord and Omega Richings, their former foster son had meshed so completely into Haven that it was hard to believe the bubbly demonstrative wolf had ever lived anywhere else.

“Dam made a nest at the end of his bed, making sure to include Wabbie-Bunny,” Mark grinned, “I think he is enjoying playing instructor to the rest of the assembled junior-parents.”

“I was surprise that Janette and Amelie ducked out of the student parents’ afternoon soiree.” Jake commented.

“What?” Tyler was suddenly alert.

“The school doll project?” Jake slowly looked to Tyler, Eric and Misha in turn. “Everyone from Primary 4 up to the Fourth Year teenagers got a doll on Monday.”

“Janette! Amelie!” Eric called in alpha command. The twins had slinked out of the living room to hide in the cubby office when the conversation turned to Damson’s group meeting.

Slouching in, dragging their feet on the wooden boards, heads cowed, both girls hovered on the rug below the wall mounted TV. 

“Do you have a pair of these baby dolls?” Tyler asked. His voice was inlaid with the icy calm of an omega mother prepared to deal with misbehaving kittens.

“Where are they?” Eric added immediately onto the end of his mate’s question.

Janette balanced on one leg, wrapping her ankle behind her calf. She threw a look to her sister. Amelie’s face was burning red.

“In the coal bunker.” Amelie muttered.

“Where?” Eric glared.

“With the bag of stupid fake bottles and baby stuff.” Janette tagged on. “They’re only stupid dumb dolls.”

Misha’s chest tightened. He told his brain that the girls were not cruel, that this minor selfishness regarding a burdensome school project did not reflect terribly on their kittens’ character. He was sure other kids at Craignamore School had thrown their practice babies into corners of their bedrooms for the duration of the week. A stupid dumb doll, worthless, undeserving of kindness or humanity, was what he had been called and lived. He pushed hard at his mind to sweep away those unwelcome associations. What the girls had done was naughty and deceptive. Yet perhaps to others their daring would evoke forbidden humour. 

Both twins were digging a bigger hole for themselves as they tried to explain their actions. 

“We rinse them under the outdoor tap before school.”

“And tell our teacher that we gave them morning baths.”

“It’s all fake and stupid.”

“Not a real anyway, only a doll.”

A small choked noise must have bypassed Misha filter, because Jake’s hand found his. His friend must have been a mind reader because as he tightened his fingers, Jake whispered, “Look at your mates. They know.”

“It is pretence. It is artificial. Perhaps it is alien to pride life, to were-culture and upbringings, where you girls help change Arden’s pull-ups and sit at monthly meetings each feeding one of Lear’s twins their bottles.” Eric’s understanding words led the nine year olds to relax their postures prematurely. “However this was your human school assignment, given to help pupils understand a little about responsibility and caring for others.”

“We know,” Amelie dared to whine, “Teacher explained it. Some of the village kids don’t have younger ones around, and some of ‘em never even had a pet. Like we don’t.”

“Miss Pellegrino if you think this is a good time to campaign for a pet, you are very mistaken.” Tyler got his girls to snap back to attention. “If we had a dog-dog or a cat like Jensen and Jared’s Puthy would you lock it in the coal bunker?”

“If you had a baby brother or sister...” Eric started to ask.

Shocked exclamations greeted those words.

“No, Dad.” 

“No, Daddy.” 

“Dear kittens,” Mark leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “What if when you grow up you move to a new pride, or mate into a new pride, and they treat omegas and gelded male cats as if they are less, inhuman...”

Both girls barrelled into the elder raven, hugging their arms around him, making Jake scoot closer to Misha to make room. 

“No, Gramps, we wouldn’t.” The protest came through childish sobs.

As they peeled away, Mark gave both their waists a squeeze. Tyler dried their eyes with a tissue. Misha stood, coming round the coffee table to wrap an arm over his daughters’ shoulders.

“Good girls,” He soothed, “Go get your fake babies and clean them up. Make a nest. Use one of Petal’s scarves to make a twin-sling. If you aren’t sure how, come ask us. Then you will go to the distillery cottage and join Damson. When you come home, after dinner, we will all watch TV with the fake babies.”

“OK, Mish.” Amelie answered while Janette nodded.

“Do you need one of us to walk across to the cottage with you?” Jake asked.

They declined the offer with haste, trying to show they could be trusted. 

“Stay on the path, and straight to the cottage.” Eric reminded.

Misha could see Amelie restraining an eye roll. Most of Haven was pedestrian with only the loop after Haven Holiday Homes for seldom vehicles to gain access to the inn and distillery. He was glad that all the children had such a wonderful safe place to grow up and play to their heart’s content. Piseagard may have had only an access road and few cars, but it was a pride where doors were locked, curtains pulled tight, and oppression ruled. 

Tyler coughed. He met Misha’s eye, then Eric’s, getting their silent go ahead to dispense judgement. “Next week when you no longer have the dolls to eat into your precious spare time, there will also be no TV, no tablets, no handhelds, no cinema night, and no reading club at the library.”

The twins did not dare challenge their punishment, making straight for the side door to retrieve their unwanted homework assignment. 

“Are you alright, darling?” Eric’s concern warmed the chill that had invaded Misha’s home.

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” Misha reassured him with a grazing touch to the blond stubble of his alpha’s cheek. “I rarely think of those days.”

The sound of Mark lifting and replacing his coffee cup brought their attention to Haven’s Second Alpha.

“I am glad Ty entrusted the news to us. Although the timing now appears to be raw.” Mark sighed, rubbing the cleft of his chin with his thumb.

“Is this about the Cat Moot?” Misha asked.

“How? How does he do that?” Mark laughed. “Do you have bugging devices linked back to the Inn kitchen? I swear, Misha you know things before they are even conceived.”

The round of good humoured laughter lifted everyone’s spirits as Misha pointed at his chest in a ‘who me?’ move.

Janette and Amelie ran through their group clutching a large bag and two sooty plastic dolls, while Misha explained he had answered the call from Rick Worthy that morning, and then connected Ty to another from an alpha, who identified herself as Moot co-ordinator.

“Are they really trying to have a Moot again after all these years, Dad?” Eric asked as the sound of running water came from upstairs.

Tyler tucked his legs under his body as he sank to the comfy floor cushion between Eric’s armchair and Misha’s spot at the end of the sofa beside Jake. “Do you remember the last moot, Tiger? I was only a kitten, but I really wanted to go. My brother, Parker, got to go with our parents, but I stayed at Marches with the smaller kittens. Did you get to go, Mish?”

Misha broke into a smile at Tyler’s fascinated enthusiasm, “No, Darling, I was too little, and neither Jared’s nor my families would have been on the approved list of attendees. Blood not pure enough to represent Piseagard.”

“Dad,” Eric asked, “You went to more than one Moot with Mum?”

“I did.” Mark side-eyed, checking if Jake was okay with discussion about his ex-mate. 

“How similar to the yearly wolf council meetings are they?” Jake asked, “Because Aubrey says they are full of politics and policy making, hosting fundraising lunches as Omega Richings, and formal evening social events. Very snooty.”

Mark chuckled drily. “Chalk and cheese, my petit loup. There are discussions in council for the senior alphas, but the Moot used to be the premier, most anticipated, social event. A chance for the whole werecat community to come together. In the days before cars, telephones, trains, the Moot was the opportunity to meet with family, cousins, and friends not seen for seven years. Every seven years from time immemorial prides would gather, whole families upping sticks to travel leaving only a bare few at home due to age, seasonal jobs and for security.” He head tilted mid-story-flow towards Misha, “Or they were verboten. May was Moot Month. Planting was done. Lambing and calving mostly over. Harvest yet to come.”

“Sounds amazing,” Jake said wrapt by his mate’s storytelling, “Why did they stop?”

“They were unique events.” Mark said with a misty look. “Mates were found. New kittens welcomed. I remember carrying Eric high on my shoulders through crowds of arriving werecats. Friends reconnected. Knowledge was shared. But do not let me over romanticise. A long time ago omegas were traded at Moots. Tata sent representatives to subsequent Moots after he mated my mother, campaigning for the banning of Tensure and for omega rights. Sometimes senior alpha discussions descended into uncompromising caterwauling. Sometimes physical fights broke out, normally between young alphas. However the final one was a disaster.”

“It was?” Eric’s jaw dropped. “I remember having great fun, mud sliding with a gaggle of other kittens.”

“The whole Isle of Man was a mud bath,” Mark briefly smiled at the memory of his mud sodden son. “Kath and I gave up on cat licking you clean. We had to stick you in a bath over and over again. It rained non-stop, as if the Mother was telling us it was all a bad idea.”

Janette and Amelie’s departure for the cottage broke their chat momentarily as Tyler checked they had zipped up their jackets and had brought their phones. Once he had ushered his twins on their way he retook his place.

“What happened that was so bad?” Tyler asked to get Mark back to his tale.

“Well, firstly there was the inclement weather which cancelled all outdoor events. Then the Piseagard group remained in one block, not permitted to interact, which cast a pall over the whole assembly. Alpha Blackthorne demanded an exemption for his pride from every bloody thing from schooling, to the tradition of inter-pride teenage exchange trips, to Piseagard’s share of the Moot costs.” Mark puffed. “But that wasn’t the kicker. The nail in the coffin for the Moots was the consequences of Marches’ incursion into Wiltshire.”

“We did what?” Tyler was gobsmacked. All the tit for tat aggression of his childhood blurred together but he never remembered hearing about a raid during the final Cat Moot.

Mark clenched his jaw then huffed. “They burned down our, thankfully empty, grain store and smashed all the panes of the greenhouse behind the walled garden. An elderly beta tried to save the fledgling tomato crop. They beat him with sticks and boots.”

Everyone winced. 

“Our Pride Alpha announced in bluster that we would boycott the next Moot if Marches attended. Curtis, who was newly invested as Marches Alpha, responded defiantly saying they would not tolerate such an ultimatum, would veto any Wiltshire initiatives, and to protect their home only send three alphas to the next gathering. We could not consider leaving our home vulnerable to a full strength attack, so that ended our participation.”

“And it never went ahead without your pride.” Misha stated fact.

“Wiltshire and Marches ramped up their aggression in the intervening years. Piseagard became more isolationist. Manx, Deptford, Baan and Broads decided not to proceed without us.” Mark quirked a smile. “It didn’t stop Baan from attending Moots though. Imagine the Irish Prides’ state of shock when Baan descended on mass to their Moot instead. According to reports Irish Moots are a greater excuse to party, but in the interests of unity and solidarity Baan are coming to both.”

“Are they splitting their pack for them? Do the Moots clash?” Jake asked.

“No. The one in Meath is next year, so the wily Northern Irish cats are going to get double the Moot-ness.”

“You make me wish we could go.” Tyler sighed.

“About that...” Mark began.

“No way!” Tyler leaped up and clapped his hands, “We can go? Do you hear, Mish, Tiger? We get to go.”

“Hold up, Cinderella.” Eric snickered.

Misha was tossed about as he watched his beloved dance in a tight skipping circle. Joy bubbled at his mate’s glee, while butterflies stomped in his belly at the idea of meeting any Piseagard cat.

“Petal,” Eric stilled his omega by wrapping an arm around Tyler’s slender waist, plunking him onto his lap, “I bet it is not so simple. Do we bring the girls? Will _that alpha_ be there?”

“I don’t care,” Tyler flicked his head, “We will avoid him. It is a Cat Moot. A Cat Moot, Eric!”

Misha kept his counsel to discuss their choices with his mates later. The decision to attend or remain on Tiree was not an easy one. If Eric and Tyler wished to go, then maybe he could stay at home with their daughters.

“Jared will represent Haven.” Mark announced. “Ty is filling him in currently.”

Misha nodded. Although his father-in-law was Haven Second and a former Wiltshire member, Jared was Haven’s most senior werecat.

“Ty was pleasantly surprised and honoured that, due to our considerable contingent of felines, we received a full invitation.”

“For all of us?” Misha was taken aback.

“Sorry,” Mark huffed wryly, “Werecats have not transformed into models of tolerance, but all Haven cats, and to give them credit, Haven cat-hybrids are invited, with Ty’s choice of Official Representative of any species.”

“They must have thought you’d take the role, Dad.” Eric said.

“Or that Ty would.” Mark added humbly. 

“Who else is to go?” Tyler chirped eyes wide with anticipation once more.

“We will have open discussion at the Pack Meeting, but essentially anyone who wishes to. Personally, I would decline. Perhaps when Arden is older, if the Moot is more accepting of others, then Jake and I will come with you all.” Mark took Jake’s hand in his before expounding his musings, “Sandy and Ossian may wish to bring Finlay and Caitlin. I doubt Ian or Josie will go. He may be Wolf, but I can’t see Jensen letting Jared go alone, though I don’t know whether they will want their four kittens to accompany them.”

“We will have to think about it.” Eric said carefully, not to dampen Tyler’s excitement but noticing Misha’s silent reticence. “I am not all that sure that I want to be there when they test if the peace treaty will survive a Curtis versus Mum fur flying face off across a council table.”

Mark cleared his throat. “Kath phoned me.”

“Don’t tell me she _requested_ my presence.” Eric griped with a hint of his old teenage belligerence. 

Gravity cloaked the older raven, drawing the others in with the magnitude of his carefully enunciated message. “Concurrent with their discussions on reinstituting the Moot, each Pride Alpha came to mutual agreement that this is their opportunity to blindside Alpha Blackthorne.”

“What?” Misha yelped. Confronting his old Pride Alpha sounded like something he wanted to stay far far away from. 

“Those living in Piseagard are constrained and silenced. Someone else needs to open the floodgates. They need brave survivors of Blackthorne’s regime to speak out at the Moot.”

Mark said something else. Tyler hissed. Jake’s mouth moved, but Misha could hear nothing beyond the blood rushing through his ears. Someone was whispering the word ‘no’ over and over again. When Tyler gripped his knee, the touch caused Misha to realise the sound was coming from his own mouth.

“No, no, no.” Misha dropped his head to between his knees, curving his spine, hunching his shoulders protectively. He tried his very best to regulate his breathing. In and out, in and out.

Eric dropped to his knees beside his beta-mate. Misha blinked at him. Had his mind phased out? Tyler leaned against his other side. Mark and Jake’s presence offered another layer of familial backing. Eric made a soothing noise at the back of his throat which magically assisted Misha’s pounding heart to ease.

The alpha covered Misha’s shoulder with his arm as if he was in corvine form sheltering his adored beta with his inky dark wing. He spoke gently, “They plan to take action against Piseagard. Mish, they want your story to be told. They respectfully have asked if you will give testimony to the assembled alphas.”


	3. Home

Dallas Aneta Padalecki stuck her tiny little head out of the kitten sling. Bright blue eyes peeped up at Jensen.

“Hey Baby Girl, you’re snug as a bug in there, aren’t you?” Jensen cooed. He was certain that his youngest was cosy, having commissioned Jake to re-line his well used kitten carrier with soft fluffy fleece before his omega daughter had been welcomed into the world on the first Sunday of January. 

Dallas stretched her neck, arching for Jensen to stroke along the thick wavy black stripes that decorated her forehead. When Dallas had shifted at her naming ceremony she had caused a mini-sensation amongst Haven’s cat population. Jensen’s automatic first thought was that his kitten’s finely drawn stripes and black tipped tail matched Jared’s Mum, but it was when Sandy exclaimed joyously that Dallas could be her beta-toddler Caitlin’s twin that Jensen twigged that his little girl had pureblood markings. On Jared’s parents’ first visit, Davina fell head over heels for her youngest grandchild, messaging photo after photo to her sisters in Texas to demonstrate how the little babe took after their side of the family. 

While the tiny kitten was undoubtedly beautiful, Jensen could not help a touch of sorrow that his littlest and only omega baby did not seem to inherit any wolf traits. At nine years old Conor’s shifts to wolf size made Jensen’s alpha son a formidable cat, now bigger in animal form than Jensen’s silver wolf and Jake’s white form. Their eldest two’s markings were similar to Jared’s gorgeous spotty European Mountain Cat. CeeCee had her beautiful green wolf eyes while impish beta Renata bore the same wolf pelt pattern on her cat coat as Jensen’s long deceased omega mother Fred Ackles. On their way home from Dallas’s naming ceremony her older siblings carefully swapped the new kitten between them whispering and complimenting how pretty their omega sister was. Jared, perceptive to his Kochanie as ever, wrapped an arm over Jensen’s shoulders pulling him in close. Picking up on the nub of disappointment, he pointed out that Dallas could prove to have wolf strength, sense of smell, or pack instincts. She already shared Jensen’s secondary gender and may also have his intelligence, his compassion, or his marvellous singing voice. The last suggestion saw Jensen elbowing his alpha through their door and dramatically beseeching Luna to spare Dallas from inheriting Jared’s tone deaf unmusical ear.

Entering Haven Inn, Jensen waved at Ian and Sophie who were on duty. He claimed the chair closest to the low burning log fire. Even in April the sunny isle of Tiree could provide a cool day and Ty liked to keep welcoming fires burning for his guests and patrons. Having fed, snuggled and let his little one comfort suckle after his older kids had gone to school and Jared retreated to his attic studio, Jensen was sure that Dallas was not hungry. Rather she wanted to be cuddled and wrapped up in her omega mother’s arms. He snagged a large floor cushion, prepared to shift and make a belly nest if she became unsettled. 

On the final day of February, the day before his birthday, with a lack of subtlety that it was hilarious, Jared had banished his mate from their home instructed to go visit with Jake. Other clues had been the purchase of baking ingredients from Amy’s shop, Conor in an apron, and his beta daughters brandishing cake decorations when they thought he couldn’t see. The two omega wolves had taken Dallas and Arden across icy paths to settle on warm cushions in front of the Inn’s wide stone hearth. Ty’s voice sounded in Jensen and Jake’s minds asking if the omegas were comfortable or in need of anything. He tagged on a secret admiring comment for Arden about being the pride-pack’s cutest omega.

Jensen popped back a mental tease that he had a cutie there too, while Jake, who had yet to shift, muttered aloud about Ty doing his best to develop Arden’s blushes.

When they looked down between their bodies, Dallas was turning round exposing her belly while craning her neck as if seeking the soft complementary tones of their pack alpha’s voice.

“She heard Ty!” Jake exclaimed.

Jensen was so dumbstruck his brain froze. 

Not long later, Ty emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his waist apron, and dropping to his knees. He stroked each omega, wolf, raven-wolf, and kitten with wolf mind connection.

_I wish evening service was not about to begin and I could shift with you all. Dallas, my dear good girl, you are a special little kitten._

The volume of the resulting purr from the seven week old babe had Jensen preening like a peacock. He could not wait to get home and tell his family about Dallas’s wolfie characteristic. 

Lost in reminiscence as low flames danced in front of him, Jensen realised Ian had been standing beside his spot with one eyebrow raised for several seconds.

“Hey broody shoes,” Ian greeted. “Are you having lunch?”

“Hi,” Jensen flushed apologetically, “No thanks, Ian. I thought Misha might like to join me for coffee before he goes home.”

“Do you want to poke your head into the kitchen? Misha is doing his handover to Ty at the moment. Or I could let them know you and the little pet are here?” Ian gazed fondly at the blue eyes blinking at him. The adult cat-wolf hybrid returned a soft slow feline-blink to the baby. “You are going to have your hands full with that one when she discovers boys.”

“Hey Somerhalder,” Jensen protested, “Many many years before Jared has to man the doorway with a shotgun, and anyhow I bet he will be asking to borrow yours, if Isla dares to bring a potential mate home to meet you and Claire.”

“Bloody right.” Ian chuckled. 

“I don’t want to interrupt our beta baker laying down the law on his creations to our Alpha.” Jensen grinned. “Would you tell Mish we are out here?”

“Will do.” Ian winked as he retreated.

News of the Cat Moot spread a couple of weeks previously and created quite a stir in sleepy springtime Haven. Sandy and Ossian regressed to childhood excitement, jumping on the first ferry to the mainland to buy a family sized tent to camp amid the mixed prides at the Moot. Mark and Eric, as the only experienced Moot attendees, were plagued for stories and werecat history tales by all Haveners. Josie and Ian added a few old tales told by the feline sides of their families, making evenings by the Inn fire entertaining for all. Janette and Amelie mounted a campaign to be allowed to go, while Eric and Tyler tried to dampen their expectations. The infectious anticipation spread to the Padalecki household too, with Conor claiming that as alpha he could watch out for the Pellegrino twins and his younger sisters if they all got to go, and it wouldn’t be fair if Sandy and Ossian’s Finlay and Caitlin were the only Haven kittens attending. Jared and Jensen’s valid point about being in the middle of a sea of triple scarred pureblood werecats fell on deaf ears, as their far too clever son pointed out that all their friends at the Dallas Pride had pureblood and that when they went to Richings almost everyone was a full blood wolf. Muttering about taking the children to Krakow for the month of May, Jared rolled his eyes for Jensen’s benefit.

There was one member of the Haven family who seemed to shrink and disappear as others’ joy filled the void. Misha ducked out of the fireside storytelling. He skipped unofficial ‘Omegas & Misha’ coffee meet ups. Colton sent a concerned Willa to the chapel to check if Misha was ill when the beta employed Angus in his stead to deliver loaves of rye bread to departing trawler Haven Bound. The constant running joke that Misha and Tyler occupied the nerve centre of every happening in the Pride-Pack fell flat as a cold pancake when the sparkling blue eyes of the beta-cat were dulled and his usual presence transformed into a distinct absence.

The Request, which Jensen had capitalised in his mind, was not common knowledge. Jensen knew because Jared knew. Also Tyler confessed it to him in confidence the morning after Mark had broken the news. Later Jensen had interrupted Jake and Misha at the distillery cottage when they were talking about how years of therapy had helped the older omega wolf. Drawn into their conversation, Jensen admitted that Jared had shared the Prides’ plans. One sunny afternoon Jared had run the coast with Misha in their cat forms. Jensen had to comfort his alpha with a family kitty-puppy pile on his return. The two lifelong friends had not touched on Misha’s years of abuse with the Fullers. Jared was emotionally drained after they had discussed the bullies who had taunted them as children and did their best to make Misha’s childhood a living hell. The Alpha was tempted to tell Ty that he was not going to the Moot where those werecats would lord it over any hybrid or mixed blood, but Jared had never let them win and going as Haven’s Representative Alpha would be a statement on his and Misha’s survival. 

 

“You look like you are about to declare war.” Misha said to his grimfaced friend as he approached Jensen and Dallas’s spot bearing a tray of coffee with mini choc chip muffins.

“Only on the past.” Jensen returned, before snagging a muffin and popping it into his mouth whole.

“Here’s to that.” Misha sighed. He leaned over to scratch gently behind sleepy Dallas’s ear, and then sat across the small polished wood table. He poured milk into their cups of dark roast, settling Jensen’s with one spoon of sugar. 

“I shouldn’t really,” Jensen contradicted his words by taking a long slurp. “I had my quota morning coffee already. Poor baby is going to suckling caffeine.”

A fleeting smile crossed Misha’s face. “I am sure one more cup will be fine.”

“We decided to bring her to the Moot.” Jensen dipped his toe into dangerous territory. He saw Misha flinch and motored on to let his friend recover. “Josie has volunteered to take the kids, and we might take her up on it with Conor, CeeCee and Renata. To me, Dallas is too little to leave behind. I know Lear’s twins did fine on bottles but I need her with me.”

“How is Lear? I haven’t seen him all week.” Misha shifted away from the Moot.

“He’s good,” Jensen narrowed his eyes, not falling for that tactic. “But Ewa and Aisling have springtime sniffles and are cutting their human teeth. It’s hard the first time your babies get sick, and after Lear’s ordeal with his painful canine mastitis, having to move to expressing milk in human form so they could bottle feed while he recovered, I’m not surprised that they’ve holed up at home.”

Misha nodded. “At least he has his mate Sean to support him. That alpha is a gem.”

Jensen grinned. “And Sean’s other favourite omega, Damson, to help out. We had an early morning request for baby ibuprofen from Dam, who ran from there and back, before sprinting to get on Dougie’s school bus.”

“I might bring some spare sausage rolls over to the holiday homes, see if Lear and Sean would like a treat.” Misha pondered.

“Does Ty know they are ‘spare’?” Jensen teased. The sharing out of Misha’s breads, cakes and pastries was an unwritten benefit of living in Haven. Ty was fully aware and encouraging of his baker producing well more than was needed to serve the Inn’s customers. 

“He will now.” Misha smirked.

Misha’s willingness to sit and talk, combined with the table behind them becoming vacant as two ladies went to the bar to pay for their lunch, made Jensen dare to broach once more the topic of the Moot.

“Have you given any more thought about going to Broads for the Moot?”

Misha gulped. His head dropped. Voice hoarse he whispered, “I’ve thought of little else.”

“Misha,” the omega gasped reaching across the divide to cover Misha’s trembling hand.

The beta’s eyes glistened with unshed tears when he looked up. 

“I can’t revisit the fear. I don’t know if I can do it, if I am strong enough.” Misha took a deep steadying breath. “Mark said he is sorry that they didn’t link me up with Alison Henderson back then, when we arrived on Tiree, but he was back and forth to Wiltshire, remember? Trying to persuade Eric to leave. I slotted in here. I coped.”

Jensen recalled those first months. He remembered rescuing Misha from the clinic in Perth, seeing Jared’s best friend recover his health and blossom at Haven, but also how Misha’s nightmares sometimes called Jared from their bed in the middle of the night. 

“Then I had Eric and Petal,” Misha continued, “and they were so understanding with me. Even now, so many years later, Eric lets me lead in the bedroom. They never hold me down, never grab my wrists. They gently tease me about my perfectionism. They understand that there are things that could send me back there in my mind... songs, words, smells...” He puffed. “I don’t know if I can go to the Moot. See those who bullied me, be expected to be civil to Alpha Blackthorne, maybe... maybe come face to face with Alpha Kurt or Julie... meet their kittens who I slaved to take care off but who spat on me, kicked me, starved me. How can they ask this of me, Jen?”

“Because it is needed.” Jensen felt his answer was woefully poor. Jared had explained it late at night under the covers of their bed. There was no one else available with such a damning tale to tell. Piseagard had its defectors. Jared’s parents had fled the pride in the aftermath of Team Rescue Misha’s success. Others had gone over the decades, from educated cats who could build a life outside, to those like Jared who were in line for gelding. All prides had those who left to avoid eugenic policies. Mixed blood betas and alphas knew they would rarely find mates, and males would be pressured to agree to gelding, if they stayed in a pride. That Piseagard had a particularly strict rule would not condemn them in the eyes of other similarly minded prides. However Misha had been subjugated, injured, and abused under Blackthorne’s regime. 

“Why can’t they talk to the Piseagard cats who attend? Get them to tell the rest what it is really like to live there?” Misha hissed.

“They will. They are going to do that, but what if they are too scared? What if they try at this Moot but no one will stand up and be counted, and then forewarned Piseagard won’t go to future ones?” Jensen reasoned. “Someone has to be the first voice.”

Misha blew a long exhale. “And that’s me?”

“Uh-hum, that my brave friend is you.” 

“You all have such faith in me.” Misha muttered.

“Damn right,” Jensen’s Texan twang made an appearance. “And every one of us will stand with you. Your voice will be heard but you won’t be alone. We will be there, me, Jay Bird, your mates, Sandy, Ozzy, all of us. You are not facing this alone.”

Misha nodded. 

The truth was that when the beta gave his statement, he would speak as an individual. Jensen sincerely hoped that Misha knew that in spirit, support and encouragement all his friends would be the pillar that he could stand firm upon.


	4. Going South

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The day before the Moot, Ty gathered his feline Haveners and Jensen at the rear restaurant of his Inn. Jensen snagged a few comfortable floor cushions for himself, Tyler and Sandy. Misha pushed his chair tight close to Eric. The beta was pale and Jensen worried that he had lost weight. Over the previous weeks Misha’s resolve had strengthened to attend the Moot. He would suspend his decision about speaking to the council until he could judge his feelings amid the Moot.

They were leaving on the evening ferry to drive overnight down through Scotland and England to Broads Pride in Norfolk. Their Alpha began by wishing them well and expressing his confidence that they all would do Haven proud. 

“I’ve spoken personally to every Pride Alpha...” Ty began.

“Even Alpha Blackthorne?” Ossian raised a sceptical russet eyebrow.

“Our conversation was brief.” Ty responded with a grimace. “I formally thanked him for Haven’s inclusion, as I did with each Alpha. He made a rather rude grumble at our declared alpha tier for the council meetings.”

“Motherfucking bigot.” Jared hissed.

Jensen chanced a side glance at Jared and Ossian to make sure there was no tension between the old friends due to Ty’s decision. Ossian with his triple pure blood scars might have been a more compliant choice to send as Lead Alpha, but Ty had stood by their Haven rankings. In practice at Haven, Ty and Mark led their Pride-Pack family, with Jared’s ranking as third only coming into play when Mark and Jake departed to visit European raven nests. Nobody stood on ceremony at Haven. That Ossian ranked lower than Jared and Colton, or Eric ranked higher than Sean and their beta members did not matter a jot to their daily lives. However at the Moot, Pride Alphas would bring their second and thirds into the council. 

“They are just gonna have to like it or lump it,” Ty huffed. “We are proud to be represented by a renowned artist, a trawlerman pureblood, and a raven.”

“A sexy raven.” Tyler whispered, just as Ty finished speaking so everyone heard his secret comment clearly.

Jared threw back his head and laughed. Seeing his mate so relaxed and joyful made Jensen break out a cheek splitting grin. 

Tension held each of the Moot attendees in its grip. Even Sandy and Ossian, who were looking forward to camping amid all the other werecats, were full of concern about Misha’s role and how their mixed blood friends would be received. That they could still laugh and enjoy one another’s company buoyed Jensen’s spirits. Misha entwined his fingers into Eric’s and both mates were squeezing their support and love. Tyler was hiding his rose pink blushed face in Eric’s knee. 

Ty cleared his throat. “Yes. Ahem. Back to the Moot. Pride Alphas, and our representative, will be accommodated at Broads’ Long House, which is their Alpha’s home. I practiced a slither of deception and hinted that the Padaleckis intended to bring their four children.”

Jensen smirked. He had foreknowledge of Ty’s plan due to the meetings where Jared, Ty and Mark had put their heads together. 

“As you know, despite Alpha Conor Padalecki’s loud protestations,” Ty tilted his head fondly at Jared and Jensen as the others indulgently smiled, “only Dallas will travel with her parents.”

“Next time.” Jared affirmed. “If the Moot is a success.”

“And Conor would be sixteen for the next one.” Jensen added with a flutter of jitters at the mere thought of his baby being mid-teens.

“Able to join the Kitten Stewards.” Sandy sighed.

“She always wanted to be one of the assembled Kitten Stewards with their coloured scarves and social evening.” Ossian explained his mate’s regret that due to the suspension of Moots they never got to experience the teenage rite of passage. 

“We know.” Tyler rolled his eyes.

Jensen suppressed a snort. Sandy had spent the whole hour while doing his nails and brows talking about her wish that the Moots would continue so that her Finlay and Caitlin could steward in fourteen years time.

“I’m going to have to get a gavel to bang to call order.” Ty jested, but with enough authority to call their attention back to their Alpha.

“They reserved two interconnecting bedrooms for us.” Jared helped bring their conversation back on topic.

“That other bedroom will now be occupied by Eric, Misha and Tyler.” Ty pronounced. 

“We’ll be neighbours.” Jensen whispered to Tyler, patting the slender omega’s jeans in satisfaction.

“Really?” Misha gasped. “We don’t have to camp outside surrounded by everyone?”

“No, Sugar.” Ty smiled fondly at his baker and friend. “I know you had concerns about reactions to your mixed blood, to what may occur, and meeting Piseagard members. Also Tyler, you are not exactly enamoured at the idea of some of Eric’s former pride members camping nearby.”

“Thank you.” Eric nodded at Haven’s Alpha. He spoke for his mates too. 

“To give credit where it is due, you can thank your parents for the idea too Eric. Kath is willing to take any gossip of favouritism on the chin, happy to allow rumours that she wangled the room for her son.”

“Mum wouldn’t care what they say about her.” Eric confirmed but hardness underlay his statement. That quality of the Wiltshire Alpha could be a boon or a bane.

“We have had some consultations about Piseagard.” Ty set his lips in a thin line. “I am not privy to all the details, but their strategy is to use trusted cats with links to the Scottish Pride to subtly approach their cousins or old friends. Hoping that there is a groundswell of internal discontent, on the final day at council, they will raise the malignant rule of Alpha Blackthorne. Unfortunately Blackthorne’s brother is his second, and his third is a staunch loyalist, so there won’t be an overthrow of rule at the council table. However confronted by the other prides, and those who will speak against Piseagard, the alphas are committed to forcing Blackthorne into a corner while aiding those who would rise against him.”

“It could get bloody.” Eric puffed, “I don’t like the idea of Mish and Petal being in the middle of all that.”

“Nor do I like that Jensen will be there,” Jared agreed, “but the confrontation is going to happen in a civilised meeting surrounded by seven other prides all unified to deal with Blackthorne.”

“The cats will not want to disgrace their newly enhanced reputation in front of the other were-creature observers. I imagine the wolverine and lynx team on the first two days, and the fox and wolf on the final two would race to the media at any sign of Marches vs. Wiltshire style enmity emerging. Also Alpha Matthew Davies is in charge of security for the weekend, with Alpha Rick Worthy there as International Observer.” Ty added.

Jensen exchanged a smile with Misha. Both looked forward to seeing Alpha Mattie again, along with dignified Envoy Worthy who had been part of Misha’s rescue so many years ago.

“Ossian and Sandy have a role to play too.” Ty addressed the young couple whose ears perked up at their mention. “I want you to enjoy every minute of your Moot, and I’m sure Finlay and Caitlin will be huge hits. Ossian will have some duties as Jared’s second, but most of your time will be ‘on the ground’ so to speak. Some of your old pride may seek you out. You may learn of rumours, opinions, or side meetings. Tell the others. If you can’t reach them and it is important, get a message to a trusted Pride Alpha.”

“Who are the trusted alphas?” Sandy squinted, pursing her lips as she thought out their strategy.

“Unlike the Wolf Council, I have little personal experience of the feline alphas.” Ty confessed. “Taking Mark’s advice and my impressions I would advise you to be wary. Eric’s mother, Alpha Carlyle from Baan, your host Alpha Omundson, and Deptford’s alpha trio are central to the reformed Moot and our plans. Perhaps Alphas McNally from Manx and Curtis of Marches are as onboard? You can trust Rick and Mattie. As for the other observers I know none of them, even the wolf is an academic from West London who I have never met.”

“We’ll end up as sequestered as Piseagard at the last Moot, afraid to open our mouths.” Eric sighed ruefully.

“No.” Ty insisted. “Don’t do that. I speak only of confidential intel to be passed along. Please be free, enjoy and participate in everything. Let’s show those Cat Prides that Haven is just as good as any of them.”

“Better.” Tyler and Misha spoke as one, gaining whoops of agreement from the others.

“I’m tempted to salute your departure with Haven Whisky.” Ty joked, “But I don’t want my trio pulled over for driving under the influence.”

“I’ll take first stint at the wheel, if the others want to partake.” Jared volunteered. 

Always intending the dram of liquor as his blessing and farewell, Ty called in to the bar, from which Ian appeared bearing a prepared tray of glasses with Haven Reserve. Three delicious hot chocolates with whipped cream followed for Jared, Sandy and Jensen. Although Caitlin was almost two, Sandy had not fully weaned her little one and would let her daughter suckle for comfort on the journey.

Teary goodbyes followed. Many Haveners had given their good wishes earlier in the day, but a seeing off committee of family and friends gathered in front of the Benedict home where Willa was passing over the keys to their people carrier. Janette and Amelie promised faithfully to be good girls for Mark and Jake, with mischievous fingers crossed behind their backs. Jake cocked his eye knowingly towards the twins as he cheek kissed Misha and wished him the best. Conor instructed his parents that as the only alpha under the Benedicts’ roof he would take care of his sisters, Angus, Josie and Rob. Lear and Willa teased the young Padalecki that they would have Sean and Colton stay over to keep an eye on them. Conor’s red temper fuelled scowl followed by his hilarity filled outrage when he realised he was being joshed, brought laughter and smiles to the departing Haveners. Jensen indulged in long warm hugs from CeeCee and Renata. 

“Monday, Jen Jen?” CeeCee checked as a hushed question into her omega mother’s ear.

“Promise, my big girl, we’ll be back Monday night.” Jensen rubbed his seven-year-old’s back. The kids had experience of staying over with Josie or other Haven families when Jared’s art would occasionally call for the Padalecki mates to attend an opening, seminar or rarely an awards ceremony. 

Conor bolted towards Jensen like a bull with his head down, brown hair filling Jensen’s vision and parted lips. The omega swaddled his boy in his arms, feeling Jared come up behind them to make him the filling in a family alpha sandwich. 

“You’ll take care of Daddy?” Conor asked.

“You know it.” Jensen grinned, but he knew that Conor had picked up on Jared’s nerves about representing Haven and their worry for Misha.

Feeling tugging on his sweater, Jensen looked down at Renata’s wide eyes.

“Yes, baby girl?” He freed an arm to grasp the five-year-old’s reaching hand.

“Do we get presents?” Renata fluttered her eyes at her parents.

“Presents from the Moot!” Janette yelled, with her twin echoing the exclamation.

“It’s not a shopping mall.” Jensen chuckled.

“But we’ll do our best.” Jared vowed. 

“There will be some craft stalls where the prides show their wares.” Eric supplied.

“Not helping.” Tyler hissed as Janette and Amelie commenced an imagining of various possible craft items for their hair or bedroom.

“Us too!” Tyra Cohen called from her spot on the sidelines with younger Isla Somerhalder.

“And me and Arden,” Damson added, head popping out from behind where Mark was talking to Eric.

“Did anyone think of bringing an empty suitcase?” Sandy asked as she lifted her red haired toddler onto her hip.

“We go!” Caitlin cheered, clapping her hands.

“Miss Craig has spoken.” Ossian declared, catching Finlay by the hood of his fleece jacket before he disappeared amid the children staying behind.

Jensen took Dallas from Willa, leaving her hands free to pass over the people carrier keys to Jared. 

Jensen took the shotgun seat next to Jared, with a strange mix of longing for his babies, excitement at experiencing a piece of his feline mate’s culture, trepidation of what Misha would face, and stoicism in the face of a ferry journey followed by nine or more hours on the road. Keys in the ignition, with understanding of their matched emotions, Jared leaned over to give Jensen a long deep kiss. 

“Awh no, Mummy, they’re doing icky kissing again.” Finlay piped up from the rear. 

“Shush now, Fin,” Sandy said as she strapped her six year old into his car seat next to Caitlin’s baby one. “You get a kiss too for being a good boy.”

The squirming boy, whose mother enjoyed pecking a line of kisses across his cheek scars, began to giggle which became infectious, and the vehicle rounded the Green filled with light-hearted laughter.

By morning they were heartily sick of being stuck in the car. They had swapped drivers after a midnight motorway coffee stop. Sandy and Ossian moved up front permitting everyone, save Eric, to shift for a nap, and Dallas’ feeding schedule to be thrown out the window as she contently suckled amid the kitty pile. At dawn, South of Sheffield, in human form, they piled into a rest stop, took over the almost empty restaurant to have a slap up breakfast. With only three hours left on the road, they freshened up before continuing south. 

Eric was at the wheel in verdant Norfolk when the first road sign for Catfield appeared. Jensen tittered at the place name.

“What’s so funny?” Jared poked his omega gently in the ribs. “Piseagard means High Place of the Kittens, you know.”

“Anyhow,” Eric called back over his shoulder, “We’re branching off to the narrow country lanes before Catfield. Broads is located on the banks of River Ant at a place called Cat Water.”

Jensen guffawed so loud he woke his sleepy daughter from her place tucked into her fleecy sling. 

“Get your mirth under control,” Tyler waved a scolding finger from the passenger seat, “We don’t want to insult our hosts immediately on arrival.”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.” Jensen fluttered his eyelashes at his fellow omega, before straightening his spine, “Unless someone insults my Jay Bird, our bitty kitten, or my friends.”

“Hear hear,” Eric cheered. “Go Jen. Wolf power.”

“Palu help us, the revolution is going to be led by a wolf and a raven.” Sandy turned their trepidation into a jest. 

Within minutes they were journeying down a tree lined avenue. New season leaves let slanted sunlight through the canopy. Jensen conjured that by midsummer the entry to Broads would be like entering a dark tunnel. Wide wooden slatted gates extended fully open as packed earth and stone replaced tarmac. Passing a wide meadow which was filling up with tents and werecat families, they saw the thatched roof of the three storey Alpha Long House appear below as the land sloped to the river bank. Small two storey white washed cottages and shops complemented the larger building. The commercial premises, which congregated nearer the water, were distinguished by single large plate glass windows and hand painted signs above stable style doors. Jensen could see that river tourism must play as large a part of Broads’s life as isle tourism did at Haven. Eric drew up behind a long black sedan in a snaking line of Pride cars outside the Long House. Immediately three dark-haired teenage girls, wearing bright tomato red neckerchief type scarves, dashed towards the new arrivals. The eldest of their attending trio outpaced the others. 

“Welcome to Broads.” She greeted enthusiastically, as the Haveners emerged. 

Jensen stretched his legs and rolled his shoulders, while the beta introduced herself as Trina, a beta whose mother ran the tea rooms. She did a double blink at the cheeks of the unmarked Haveners, but recovered her wits to beam at the sight of Finlay, Caitlin and Dallas’ little chin resting on the seam of the sling.

Jared popped the trunk but was prevented from lifting out their bags as two boys ran over to help with them and taking down the Craig’s tent from the luggage rack.

Trina’s closest companion had a clipboard. The taller girl flicked her long ponytail over her shoulder and asked politely which pride they came from.

Jensen could tell this pretty teen was alpha, feeling a natural pull to answer her question. Jared narrowed his eyes as if trying to place her, sneaking a glance at the tartan armbands around the blouse sleeves of both she and the third shorter round faced girl lingering behind.

“We are from Haven.” Jared extended his hand alpha to alpha. “And you are?”

“I’m Erica.” She took his hand in a firm grip. “Welcome to the Moot, Alpha Jaroslaw.”

“Just Jared.” He smiled. “And this is my mate, Jensen.”

Their introductions were interrupted.

“Erica? Carroll?” Ossian threw his long arms around the surprised girl. “You’ve grown.”

“’Course she has, Ozzy.” Sandy huffed, as she bustled in to air kiss over the young Piseagard alpha’s cheek. 

“An Erica and an Eric, this could get confusing.” Tyler commented as he and Eric got out from the front seats. 

Misha was the last to leave the sanctuary of the car. Jensen crouched to check on him, beckoning with an encouraging smile that their reception, including their first Piseagard interaction, was warm and friendly.

With a watery smile, Misha nodded, venturing one foot onto Broads Pride soil.

“You’re the Wiltshire Alpha’s son,” Trina gasped before bowing from the waist.

Eric darted forward, stilling her motion with a hand on her shoulder. “Please don’t bow to me.”

Jensen thought back to when they had travelled to Richings for Joseph Morgan’s funeral. Then Eric had been overwhelmed by the wolves’ reaction to having a raven in their midst. While Mark and Eric’s species was an open secret amongst those in the know, Jensen suspected that the wider werecat community might not yet know the younger Pellegrino was also a raven. Caught in his musing, Jensen missed Eric introducing Tyler to the teen stewards. 

Misha took a step closer to his mates, offering a tentative smile to Trina and a shy head nod to Erica, whose lips parted in disbelief when she recognised him. All colour drained out of the third girl’s face. She staggered to pull on Erica’s sleeve, while in turn Erica looked towards her urgently.

Eric reached for Misha’s hand. “And this is my wonderful beta mate, Misha.”

The final teen let out a choked shocked yelp, “Dmitri?”

Misha stumbled backwards almost colliding with Jensen, who made to brace his friends’ fall, but Jared got there first, holding the beta upright. 

“No, Jared.” Misha’s breath stuttered. He rasped, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

The bottom collapsed out of their fairytale welcome as Jensen saw panic grip Misha.

“You can.” Jared took a deep breath, as Tyler and Eric swamped them.

“Call Jake’s Dad. Tell him I’m taking him up on Sean’s offer to stay over with the O’Brien Fox Pack.” Misha sniffed. “I’ll wait in the car until someone comes from London.” 

“No Dmitri,” the round faced teen dropped to her knees in the space between Tyler and Jensen. Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. “Don’t go because of me, because of us.”

“I can’t.” Misha repeated to Jared, blue pupils dilated, heart thumping in his chest.

“Omega Kennedy.” Jared addressed the teenager. “Give Misha space, please.”

She shuffled backwards, nodding with bitten lip. Erica helped her to stand before Kennedy ran at speed into the Long House.

“Who was that?” Jensen whispered to Jared, letting Eric and Tyler work at calming Misha by hugs and back rubs.

“That,” Sandy clicked her tongue, “was our first hurdle. Julie and Kurt’s eldest daughter, Kennedy Fuller.”

“Oh Luna,” Jensen blew a long recovery exhale, taken aback that they met one of Misha’s abusers as soon as this. He bit his lip, empathising with his beta friend, and fearing how much worse things could be. Blinking back emotion he used his palm to jiggle Dallas into a comfy resting spot. 

“You okay, Kochanie?” Jared drew his brows together.

“I’m good,” Jensen responded, strengthened by his mate’s concern, “but I think I am just realising I may have underestimated how hard this is going to be for all of you.” 

“Especially Mish,” Jared tilted his head to where Eric had linked Misha’s elbow. “Looks like Greg Abel is not being asked to send in a fox cavalry.”

“Just as well. There are enough assholes here already.” Jensen harrumphed. He resolved to go to Misha as soon as they reached their rooms.

“Kennedy looked more ashamed than arsehole-ish.” Ossian interjected, before thanking the two beta boy stewards and asking if they would watch their camping gear a while.

Jared hummed, resting his elbow on the roof of the people carrier. “I’ll take that ember of hope and we’ll try blowing it into a flame.”

Jensen stood on his tip toes to kiss his mate’s soft lips.

“What was that for?” Jared smiled softly, cupping Jensen’s cheek with his palm.

“Being you.” Jensen’s chest filled with admiration for his mate. 

Misha and his mates came, arms linked, round their vehicle. At Jared’s head nod signal, all of Haven’s party proceeded into the Long House in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those reading this extra Haven verse bonus story. I hope you'll enjoy the ride as our Haveners experience the Moot.


	5. Moot Meet

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Misha was in sensory and emotional overload. Eric’s strong arm kept him upright as they made their way through a sea of pureblood faces filling the Alpha Long House entry foyer. Flashes of garish tartan armbands, chosen by Alpha Blackthorne for his people, smarted Misha’s eyes. He swung, pendulum like, between training his eyes on the chocolate brown carpet and raising his head defiantly meeting stunned recognition from some of those he had grown up with. Jared’s towering presence a step in front of him gifted a feeling of safety in a way Misha remembered since infancy. Tyler’s under-breath hisses when he stumbled or stiffened made him want to be strong enough to stand tall for his omega mate. 

Suddenly they were before the Broads Alpha. Jensen evoked a bubble of forbidden mirth when he blurted his thoughts without filter.

“Jay Bird, he looks like a cat!”

Timothy Omundson swung his attention away from two similarly grey bearded cats, Alpha Staite from Piseagard and Marches’ Second Alpha Dennis. 

“Alpha Padalecki, I presume,” The Broads Pride Alpha grinned wide, confirming Jensen’s naughty assessment as his beard morphed into grey whiskers and tomcat jowls. “From Haven, Welcome to the Madness that is the Cat Moot.”

Jared firmly shook the Alpha’s hand, and began to make introductions. Tim, with old time manners, kissed the back of Jensen, Sandy and Tyler’s hands. He covered Misha’s hand with both of his, adding a knowing nod to his greeting. Feeling the beneficent power of a Pride Alpha bolstered Misha enough that he copied Tyler’s cool politeness. As Tyler shook Alpha Dennis’ hand, Misha extended his own to Charles Staite. That alpha’s grandson had been one of those who taunted Misha, however the Staite family were not on friendly terms with the Fullers and thus had not been involved in Misha’s later years at Piseagard.

Eric’s proud pat to Misha’s back allowed a long expulsion of held breath. Blinking to catch up with events, Misha saw Caitlin in kitten form on Sandy’s shoulder. He tilted his head to let Jensen whisper in his ear. 

“That’s Annalisa Omundson, the Alpha’s only kitten.” Jensen indicated the young chirpy amiable beta, who was leading them towards the stairs. She was slender, with dark auburn hair in a loose floppy bun, a feline sway to her hips, and a high pitched tinkling laugh.

“Are you sorry you couldn’t steward due to your duties as our host’s daughter?” Tyler asked.

Eric elbowed him in the ribs at his slightly impertinent question. Tyler glared at him in response, causing Misha’s lips to uplift at his mates’ antics.

Annalisa giggled, “No, Omega Pellegrino, I’m twenty two. And I’m happy to be Daddy’s rock of support. I can’t wait for the farewell night dance. Daddy left me stay over at Deptford Pride last month, and their Second Taylor Cole, who’s Moot Co-Coordinator, y’know, took me to Oxford Street to buy a dress.”

“Please, Annalisa, call me Tyler. Are they going to have a formal dance or will it be music for all ages?”

“A good mix, I think, with some golden oldies at the start to keep the ancients and Pride Alphas happy.”

“Don’t let my Mum hear you include her with the ancients.” Eric chuckled.

“Oh I wouldn’t.” Annalisa blushed, but then beamed when she realised the blond alpha was teasing.

She led them down a short corridor on the middle floor. Their rooms had a view of the array of multicoloured tents in the camping field. Alert to slights, Misha suspected that perhaps the ‘proper’ Pride Alpha parties had been given river views but he could not complain about the simply furnished clean bright lemon and white decorated space, with two double beds they could push together and plenty of room for Eric to shift for a nap, if he wished. An interior door opened into Jared and Jensen’s room which was a carbon copy, save for pale green accent tones and a by-the-bed crib for their little one.

When Annalisa departed, Eric explained that the beta’s mother had died in childbirth and that Annalisa was the apple of her father’s eye. 

With a promise to seek each other out later, Sandy and Ossian took off with their children to pitch their tent. Jared and Jensen expressed their need for a rest after being on the road all night. Dallas was already snoozing, and Jensen put his finger to his lips pointing at the crib.

Misha shared a raised eyebrow with Tyler about how much of a _rest_ their friends planned for their alone time. With a sigh, he unzipped the first of their bags, but Eric’s hand stilled him.

“They can wait, Mish Darling.” Eric tugged at his hand gently, guiding Misha towards the nearer bed.

Tyler turned the key in the door to the outside world. He twisted round on one foot. “How are you really, Mish?”

“Seeing you turn that key feels like sanctuary.” He chewed his already bitten lip. 

In an instant, his dear omega was plastered to his side, burying his head under Misha’s chin.

“My Mish,” Tyler mumbled.

“I’d like to shift.” Misha ran a hand down Tyler’s flank, as if already stroking his mate’s feline form. He looked upwards to Eric, seeking his approval and participation.

His heart soared, when without a word the room was full of black feathers. Quick as, two grey-black cats dived under Eric’s wing. The raven tried to find a comfortable roosting position under the low ceiling. Misha circled round and round, pawing at the cream primrose flowered rug underneath, his tail swishing of its own accord. Throaty mewls broke from him, expressing the turmoil he was coping with inside. Eric curved his neck at an impossible angle, barely enough to nudge Misha with his shiny beak. Tyler’s nose pressed into Misha’s shoulder. Responding to his beloved mates, he finally flopped onto his side, to be immediately licked from head to toe by Tyler-cat. Misha drifted to sleep before the omega finished his thorough job. 

It was either hunger or the knuckle rapping on their door that disturbed the trio from their daytime slumber. Jared stuck his head in to say they were heading down to the conservatory that spanned the rear of the building. Grazing treats and snacks were available there all day for the arrivals. Tomorrow the craft stalls would fill that space.

Tyler’s adorable grouchy half-sleepy grumbles about not being able to idle away their day in privacy, had both Eric and Misha encouraging their omega with gentle cheek pecks and smiles as they dressed. In the mirror, Misha caught Tyler’s face as he concentrated on choosing his outfit for the day. He focused on his mate’s adorable freckle and the way the sun from the window caught the gold highlights in his brown hair.

Misha filled with a burst of love. He loved Tyler so much, loved both his mates deep and hard. 

Before he could get maudlin or needy, he begged first spot in their tiny attached shower room to splash his face and have a quick shave. Eric went next, while the other two waited, perched on the end of a bed each.

“I’m glad we didn’t bring Janey and Amelie,” Eric called from the sink.

Tyler nodded, “It would have been too much for them.” He fumbled in the deep pocket of his long grey marl cardigan. Flicking his phone open, he grinned at his daughters’ image on the screen. “I’ll message them. Let them know we got here safe.”

“Give them my love.” Misha requested.

“’course, Mish.” Tyler smiled as he tapped the screen.

“How do you feel about finding Sandy and Ozzy’s tent once we’ve eaten? I need to stretch my wings.” Eric reappeared patting his smooth cheeks with a hand towel.

“Not literally?” Tyler gaped.

“Ha ha ha,” Eric sniggered, “I’m not flying over the Moot.”

“I don’t know.” Between Misha’s shoulders itched. He fancied staying in the room, having his mates bring him up some sandwiches and maybe a cake. 

“You are coming with us?” Tyler gasped. “Please, Meesh. We’ll be right next to you. I’ll bop the nose of the first shithead who insults you.”

“And I’ll give him a boost up, if said shithead’s nose is too high for him to reach.” Eric added.

Misha laughed so loud that he almost missed a knock on their door. Eric unlocked it to reveal his mother. 

Kath Pellegrino strode into the centre of the room. Her long grey-blond hair was braided over one shoulder of the dark navy jacket of her formal suit. 

As Eric and she exchanged cheek kisses, Misha realized that his mother-in-law was getting older. Under her make-up new fine lines graced her forehead. Mark’s former mate most definitely looked the elder of their broken union. A quick morbid thought of he and Tyler aging beyond Eric’s appearance was dismissed as Kath welcomed them both to the Moot and came straight to the point.

“You disappeared, Eric. I would have thought you might have sought out Wiltshire’s rooms. I hope you are not going to hide here all weekend, because I do not want any suspicions raised about our plans.” She turned to the beds, “And Misha, I hope you are not having a change of mind.”

Although her words were commanding, her eyes betrayed some maternal concern that all was alright with her son’s family. 

Misha gave a stiff head shake. Standing in front of the council was a long way off yet, while at the same time approaching like a cannonball. He was sticking to his wait and see policy, but his nod was true. He did intend to testify.

Eric’s gaze moved from Misha to Kath. “We are about to lunch and head out to the camping field. Have you eaten, Mother?”

“Yes, we ate early.”

Misha cleared his throat. 

“I’m nervous about running into cats from Piseagard.” The tremble in his voice at his former pride’s name betrayed how anxious he really was.

Kath narrowed her eyes. She stroked her cheek scars with her index finger. “Hmm. Take this.”

She pulled a round object like a key fob out of her pocket. 

“What is it?” Misha turned the smooth plastic over in his hands.

“Alpha Davies has limited security on duty. Now that we are at peace with Marches, there’s no need for actual patrols.” Her lips quirked wryly. “Each Pride Alpha got a silent ‘panic button’. As if I would panic about anything. It was almost insulting. I am surrounded by my pride for Palu’s sake. However you may feel better knowing a security detail will come to your location if you depress the centre of the button.”

“Thank you.” Misha gasped. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Yes, thank you, Mum.” Eric said sincerely.

“See, my wilful kitten, I do have good ideas.” The Pride Alpha smirked before reaching to ruffle Eric’s hair.

“Sometimes.” Eric hissed playfully, as he attempted to smooth his locks.

“Wilful.” Kath chortled.

Tyler held Misha’s hand as they followed Eric and his mother into the corridor. At the top of the stairs, they met Jensen, who was coming to find them. Jared had to attend a brief session where he would sign the opening parchment in his role as deputy for Ty Olsson. Kath was also due at the Alpha’s council room. She paused to admire Dallas who was wide awake and peeping at all the surrounding excitement. 

Jensen led the way to the conservatory, expressing how nice everyone had been while Jared and he had lunched. A beta couple with Piseagard armbands had asked for their regards to be passed to Jared’s parents. Then they had enjoyed listening to a ribald telling of how some of the younger Baan adults had tried to counter their seasickness with alcohol on the ferry from Ireland. Ossian appeared and ribbed them mercilessly, while explaining to gaping jaws that he was a trawler fisherman. There had been a poignant moment when one of their audience remembered news reports of Haven Bound during the terrible summer storm years ago. A moment of pause for Ewan Benedict was respectfully held amid the informality of their lunch hall. 

As they were late, the conservatory was sparsely populated. However that also led to Eric groaning about grazing from the leavings. He teased Jensen that they should have insisted on eating before Jared got to the spread.

Misha was judging the sogginess of sausage roll pastry when Tyler called his name. A hunched bald very elderly beta was patting the omega’s arm.

“Mish, this,” Tyler beamed, “is my distant cousin, James Johnston. Best kitten storyteller in Marches.”

“Ah now, young Tyler, you compliment me.” The old cat smiled at Misha, “It is a pleasure to meet my most attentive listener’s mate.”

Misha thanked him warmly.

Eric pumped Beta Johnston’s hand, “Nice to meet you, Sir. You must be my distant cousin too. My grandmother was a Johnston.”

“Indeed she was,” Beta Johnston spoke knowledgably, “Marches’ own Omega Venice.”

Eric politely did not raise the horrific treatment of Venny at her birth pride. Instead he got the elderly werecat to embarrass Tyler by recounting his favourite childhood tale, an expanded version of the three little kittens who lost their mittens.

Outside Misha got a picture of just how packed the Moot was. People dashed back and forth. Kittens darted between legs. Some congregated in groups. Although Deptford was the closest pride, a lot of their number had only just arrived and were setting up their tents. 

“It’s like a crazy rock festival without the bands.” Jensen commented. 

Sandy and Ossian had pitched up a short distance into the grounds, slightly to the right of the entry gate. Eric spied their tent first. They had raised a fun flag over the peak. A rainbow striped triangle on which Jared had painted the outline of Tiree with cat eyes, ears and whiskers.

Making for their friends, Misha parsed the first signs of unfriendly behaviour. A few adults turned their back when they saw their unmarked faces. A barb of “dirty hybrids” reached his ears.

Eric whirled around, eyes sparking daggers. Misha moved to halt him, but his mate was in Alpha mode.

“Who said that?” He shouted.

With typical bully cowardice, nobody owned up.

“Come on, Tiger.” Misha urged. “Only words. They’re not worth it.” 

“Worthless.” Eric roared in the direction the taunt had come from, but he let his mates and Jensen lead him away.

Ossian came running towards them, Finlay trailing behind with his fists balled up in boxing pose. 

“Panic over.” Jensen soothed.

“There was no panic.” Misha insisted. “Just some jeering idiots.”

Eric harrumphed. 

“Come tell, Sandrina. She’s about ready to shift and claw eyes out after hearing Eric’s yell.”

“I hope you two haven’t had any trouble.” Eric replied. 

“Naw, not really.” Ossian squirmed.

They all stopped in their tracks, feet from the tent, and waited for the ginger haired alpha to explain.

Sandy, with one hand on hip, clicked her tongue for their attention. “Listen, we’ve had a blast. Loads of volunteers helped us set up. We met Kristen and Bruce, who lived beside Jared’s Mum and Dad.”

“But?” Jensen asked, his green eyes bright with concern.

“At the food tables, I was chatting with a very pregnant omega from the Isle of Man. It is his first kitten and he was telling me how happy he is that he was able to travel.”

“This punk kid tipped hot sauce into Sandy’s glass of juice.” Ossian growled.

“But you saw him, Ozzy.” Sandy sighed. “His friends had put him up to it.”

“Sandy could have given it to Finlay to sip, or poured some into Caitlin’s sippy cup.” Steam almost came from the red-head’s ears.

“And we told him that in no uncertain terms.” Sandy added.

“Was he from Scotland?” Misha gulped.

“No,” the female omega chewed her lip. “Seems there are some who do not hold Haven’s inclusivity in high regard amongst other prides.”

“There is good and bad everywhere.” Jensen huffed.

“When did you get so wise?” Sandy teased.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jensen smirked back.

They stayed a while with the Craig family, people watching, shooting the breeze, and talking about their offerings for Haven’s craft table. Dallas entertained them by using her burst of post-nap energy to spit at, pounce and chase bits of dandelion fluff and blades of grass. 

Caitlin’s longing looks at the littler kitten ended in a plea, “Mama play?”

“Ok, Sweetie, you can shift, but remember Dallas is smaller than you.” Sandy helped her daughter out of her tee and soft pants. 

“I member.” Caitlin promised.

“Two little darlings.” An admiring female voice said above their heads.

Misha expelled a silent wow when he recognised Eric’s former pride-mate, Nicki, Janette and Amelie’s sister by blood.

The blond beta asked about the twins’ attendance.

“We didn’t bring them.” Tyler relayed to Nicki’s disappointment.

“First Moot since the one when we ended up covered in mud, Nicki. Didn’t want to expose them to any negative reaction.” Eric explained, as he stood to swamp the smaller beta in a body hug.

“Talking of running through nature, are you all joining the Great Pride Run tomorrow evening?” She asked.

“That is the plan.” Ossian answered. 

“Though Jensen and I may not shift.” Their raven alpha replied.

“Oh but you should. I’d love to see your raven form, Eric, and to meet you as wolf, Omega Padalecki.”

“We’ll see.” Jensen blushed, amazed that his plain omega wolf could evoke wonder.

“Well, it is lovely to see you all,” Wiltshire’s Second’s daughter smiled. “And I hope you will ignore any talk of pureblood supremacy.”

“Pureblood supremacy?” Misha shook his head when she moved on, “That’s a new term.”

Jensen hummed. “I think we’d better tell Jay Bird. I don’t think that is on the official agenda.”

“Could be old fashioned cranks, like Piseagard’s stalwarts and Nicki’s father.” Ossian speculated.

When Jared escaped from the Pride Alphas, he gladly joined their party, taking a spot behind Jensen, so he could pull his mate to rest against his chest. Jared moaned and complained about Curtis being overly wordy, the Baan alpha being a jesting time waster, and Paul Blackthorne delaying by insisting every single act or word comply with Moot precedence. Misha suppressed a sly grin as Jensen cooed and ah-ed sympathetically to buoy his alpha’s spirits. Once they were filled in on the council’s approval of the already decided Moot schedule and the official exchange of Pride pleasantries, they filled Jared in on their day’s events. Due to call Ty and Mark every evening, Jared promised to pass on the complete picture including Nicki’s throwaway comment.

As dusk edged in, Misha stretched his legs. It was time to seek out some evening sustenance. Standing up he noticed a trickle of people making their way to the Long House. Determined not to make do with leftovers again, he opened his mouth to suggest moving, when he heard a familiar voice.

“Dmitri! Dmitri! Oh my God, is that you Misha?”

Blinking into the setting sun, Misha nearly dropped from shock when he saw his sister making her way against the tide of dinner seekers. Her long skirts and grey-black hair flew behind her, tartan armband marking her continued residence at their old home, but as she filled his vision, Misha noticed strain, tension, sorrow and ugly fading bruises marred his much older sibling’s face.

“Zlata?” He gaped as she grabbed his biceps.

“Don’t touch him.” Jared loomed over them.

“Jaroslaw, I wouldn’t hurt my brother.” She gasped turning her blue eyes upward.

“That’s not what I remember.” Jared glared, nostrils flaring with long held anger.

“Misha?” Zlata pleaded, as tears began to pour down her cheeks. Her knees gave way, pulling her brother to the ground with her.

Of all the things to happen at the Moot, Misha had never in his wildest dreams or nightmares imagined he would be cradling his Ice Queen sister, as she sobbed her heart out.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


	6. Bumps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer update... but the words kept coming.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who is still interested in Haven, and for your kind comments and kudos. <3

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Holding his trembling sister in his arms, memories from another lifetime haunted Misha.

_He was five years old, holding tight on Jared’s hand, as they watched Zlata’s mating ceremony to her beloved Peter._

_Zlata breezed in and out of their parents’ cottage, showing off her new clothes or gifts from Peter, ignoring the bullies’ bruises on her little brother’s face, as he stayed quiet in a corner, pretending to read the latest book he had borrowed from Jared._

_Pressed to the window of the Fullers, Misha’s stick thin hand skeletal on the glass, he silently beseeched anyone to come save him. Zlata saw him from across the path. Her head jerked away, denying, unseeing, leaving him to rot._

“Misha, Misha. You have no idea how bad things are. The Alpha controls everything. He...” She choked back a sob.

Jared could not stay quiet. “Your brother spent almost two and a half fucking years...”

Misha shook his head. Now was not the time for home truths.

“He took Peter away from me.” She bawled. 

No matter what, Misha knew that Zlata adored her mate. Two betas born in the same rainy September, they grew up together, inseparable, and a true love match. Peter had never been cruel to Misha, and although he did not step up against the Fullers, Misha believed that his brother-in-law was not a bigot. Their Russian blood had never stopped the beta pureblood from loving Zlata.

“Why would he?” Misha asked in puzzlement. “What harm did your union do to the Pride?”

“Peter,” Zlata gasped in pain. “Peter is so clever, such a great person and we never... We thought we couldn’t... sometimes beta pairings never produce kittens.... we always hoped for one or two... and The Alpha, he wanted Peter’s bloodline to continue in the pride. He broke our mating and he gave Peter to his daughter, Rachel.”

“His own daughter?” Sandy gawked. “Rachel is much younger. She’s our age.”

Zlata noticed the Craig family. She shook her head. “Peter always wanted a family. Rachel is flighty. Alpha decided it was time for her to reproduce. Peter got to be The Alpha’s son-in-law, moving from low ranked to Pride Fifth. He was torn up about it, but Blackthorne’s word is law. They have two beta sons now, still trying for their own alpha.” Zlata gave a strange harsh coughing laugh.

“How long ago was this?” Misha furrowed his brow. From her distress, he had presumed these were recent developments.

“Seven years ago.” She sighed. 

“Zlata! Where the fuck are you?” A loud voice roared from their left.

The beta leaped to her feet, her pupils dilated. She bent from the waist and pleaded to her brother. “Can I seek you out later?”

Terror radiated from her. Her eyes darted towards the roar that had called her. Misha nodded. He grasped her hand but it slid from him.

“We are quartered in the Long House, middle floor.” He called as she ran.

Standing up, they watched as Zlata skidded to a stop, bowing her head before an older burly shaved-headed alpha who viciously gripped her arm.

“That’s Calvin.” Jared’s jaw dropped.

“The gelded bodyguard.” Jensen delved into his knowledge of Piseagard history. “The guy they wanted you to replace, Jay?”

“He’s definitely retired now.” Ossian puffed. “He was on the way out when Sandy and I left.”

“I don’t know what is going on.” Misha blinked. “Did she want my help? Was she looking for me?”

“I didn’t hear her apologize for shit.” Jared ground his teeth.

“I don’t want her anywhere near us if she is going to harm my mate.” Tyler clenched his jaw. “But the reason we’re here is to help Misha’s old pride, to encourage those who would speak out.”

“You are not meeting her alone.” Eric affirmed. “Petal and I will be there. Jared too if the timing is right.”

Misha squinted. “Looks like she came while others were distracted. If she does come tonight it will be late or while something else is happening.”

“The agenda, which was carved into my brain,” Jared rolled his eyes, “has a sort of meet and greet for Pride Alphas, their mates, and their seconds and thirds. It is in the Alpha’s private garden at nine.”

“Wait till I tell Aubrey there were formal soirees after all,” Jensen huffed. “Jay Bird, you might have to stop me from wolfing out and going for the jugular when we have to shake Alpha Blackthorne’s hand.”

“Don’t worry, Kochanie, he won’t want to touch either of us. Our blood isn’t good enough for him.” Jared slung his arm around Jensen’s shoulders.

“You mean, too good for him.” Eric corrected.

“As our numbers are small, I could excuse you, Eric, with the duty to watch over the rest of our party. Sandy might take Dallas for us?” Jared suggested. “That way if Zlata does use the opportunity, your mates would be there, Mish?”

With everyone’s agreement, they joined the throng snaking their way through the conservatory. Hundreds of bowls of curry and rice were served, with a simple macaroni option for the younger attendees. The Haveners ate theirs under pretty globe lights down at the river bank.

Back in their rooms, calls were made to home. Janette and Amelie’s chatter made their parents smile, while missing them dearly. From the perspective for their window, Misha could catch sight of the alpha trios making their way round to an embellished iron gate in a tall hedge. Hints of candle light flickering from lanterns high in the garden trees suggested Broads had decorated Alpha Omundson’s private sanctuary for the occasion.

“I bet it’s real pretty in there.” Tyler said wistfully.

Eric chuckled as he pressed against their backs, looking over their heads. “We can sneak in tomorrow.” He promised. “Maybe have our own Pride Run in private.”

“There’s Ozzy with Jared and Jensen.” Tyler pointed. “Don’t they look handsome?”

Misha nodded. The two alphas dressed in suits. Jensen wore a long pale green sweater over black trousers, with one of Jake’s scarves in sea green shades. “We scrub up well.”

Tyler sniggered until he broke into a single trill of laughter. “Look at Marches.”

“Oh.” Misha slightly laughed along.

Alpha Curtis, his elderly Second Alpha Dennis, and Third, a female alpha in her fifties, looked like they were going to weed a vegetable patch.

“What is that about?” Misha wrinkled his nose.

Eric hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe they are trying to look poor. Mum says that Marches are claiming that they are bankrupt after long years of feuding.”

“They’re looking for aid from the other prides?” Tyler squinted. “I know I was only sixteen when I left, but we were always self-sufficient.”

“It may be a ruse.” Eric inclined his head to his omega. “I don’t know if Curtis will receive much sympathy. The peace treaty divided Bristol equally, and it is common knowledge that Marches’ tree farming was never impacted during the war, whereas several times Wiltshire’s crops were burned.”

“I can just see your mother standing up and claiming that Wiltshire deserves aid more than they do.” Misha winced.

“Jared is welcome to all that posturing.” Eric hummed.

As the last party, from Piseagard, entered the garden Misha bit his lip. Eric patted his arm, pulling his gaze from the trio, Blackthorne’s mate, and their old bodyguard.

“I didn’t faint at the sight of the back of Alpha Blackthorne’s head.” Misha joked, with a smidge of pride that he hadn’t collapsed. “Not at Donald’s ugly mug or Harry’s snot nosed face either.”

“Maybe it’s good that there’s time before you speak.” Tyler mused. “At least you’re not going to be hit straight on with seeing them all at once.”

Misha thought his mate was trying to put a positive spin on things, but he did not contradict him.

Only moments after they had stepped back from the window, Zlata appeared at their door. With urgent motion she twisted her body round the barely open door and leaned her back against it to shut it tight.

“Zlata.” Misha acknowledged staying put on the end of the bed. 

She did not seek any hug or familial greeting, sitting down on the dressing table stool at Eric’s suggestion. Although fear played across her face, Zlata’s aloof behaviour was more normal in Misha’s experience. She was always a distant presence, maybe due to their age gap, or perhaps her dedicated conformity to Piseagard’s rules, as if she was overcompensating for the lack of triple scars on her cheek.

“Well?” Tyler demanded impatiently, on hand on his hip, standing midway between his mate and their visitor.

“I have a son, Dmitri, a little boy.” Zlata blew a long exhale and straightened her posture.

Misha narrowed his eyes, but did not interrupt with questions of how this differed from her earlier tale.

“You are an uncle.” Zlata’s eyes beseeched.

“Rewind, Beta Zlata.” Eric directed as he sat on Misha’s right. Tyler glared at her as he plunked down covering Misha’s left side. Each mate took one of Misha’s hands.

Her eyes watched them with what Misha could only fathom was envy or perhaps loss.

“Seven years ago.” Zlata closed her eyes a moment. “Alpha Blackthorne made his decree. Peter and I had always kept our heads down, stayed out of trouble, never rocked the boat.” She hacked a laugh, “And this was our reward? Rachel moved into our home. I packed my bags. Heartbroken but defiant I marched to the Alpha House. Where was I to live? I don’t remember much of the following days. I think I was in shock. He mated me to Calvin.”

Misha sucked a breath. 

“He thought it was funny. A barren cast aside beta with his faithful eunuch bodyguard. I was Calvin’s reward for years of service. A live in housekeeper, we could be companions in old age, according to Blackthorne. Calvin might be gelded but he has desires.” She shuddered. “There was no escape. No one spoke for me. Even Peter told me to make the best of it.”

“No one spoke for _you_?” Tyler hissed.

“Stop, Petal.” Misha understood his mate’s rage was directed at Zlata, but she interpreted his anger as empathy for her predicament.

“No, Omega Pellegrino. All those I thought were friends, they turned their backs, when I asked for aid, when Calvin corrected me with his fists.” She sniffled. 

“Beta Zlata,” Eric asked softly, “How do you have a son? And what do you want from us?”

“Peter turned forty.” She wiped her eyes. “The Alpha threw a party for his son-in-law. Everyone attended. It got wild and many shifted to run through the pridelands. I took the chance to escape from Calvin’s constant surveillance. Peter and I had a rock we loved, overlooking the lights of Crieff town. I made for it, and sitting on our perch, tail curled round him, was Peter. We had spent thirty seven of our forty years together. Our cats....”

“You mated in cat form?” Tyler gasped.

“Being betas, we’d rarely done so. But it was frenzied and like we needed each other completely. When he bit down on the back of my neck, it was like everything horrid faded away.” She looked at the carpet. “At dawn Rachel and Peter stood together wishing their guests a good morning sleep when we all trooped back to Piseagard.”

“But you were pregnant, Zlata?” Misha asked, putting himself into his sister’s shoes, imagining her terror of telling Alpha Calvin.

“Not yet.” She admitted. “We met in secret. Rare stolen moments, when Calvin ran errands for The Alpha, when Rachel was busy with their first kittens.”

“They could have killed you.” 

“I thought they would, when I couldn’t hide it anymore. You have to understand, that I didn’t believe I was with kitten. Over forty, I thought it was menopause and gastric flu and middle aged spread. Calvin would have beaten me to death. The Alpha might have ordered him to, except for the baby. Peter claimed we had only one moment of weakness. Rachel forgave him, but The Alpha forbade any further contact between us.” She paused to collect her thoughts. “I went along with Peter’s lies. I couldn’t see him punished.”

“What happened?” Tyler asked.

“When Maxim was born, before I could hold him or suckle him, Calvin took him straight to The Alpha. I was distraught, imagining all sorts, from my kitten being strangled to being given to Rachel. The judgement came. Maxim would be raised as Calvin’s son, to be tough, a fighter, a bruiser, a carbon copy of his _father_. When the blood test came back from Perth Clinic, that Maxim is alpha, Blackthorne was pleased. Max is not pureblood but he would grow up strong, serve the pride, be gelded, live a repeat of Calvin’s life.” Zlata covered her face with her palms, shoulders shaking as she wept.

Tyler hissed. “I don’t understand your stupid Pride Alpha. Why geld Maxim? Your grandfather was European Mountain Cat. I have a lynx-fox hybrid great grandmother on my family tree, but my twins are generationally far enough apart. They are pureblood, not that it matters. If he mates a pureblood then your son’s children would be pureblood too.”

Muffled by sobs, she replied. “We are tainted in The Alpha’s opinion. You don’t understand. Maxim’s fate broke me.” 

Compassion stirred by his sister’s terrible years, Misha slipped from between Eric and Tyler. He kneeled in front of her and pulled her hands down. “Zlata, what can we do? Do you want to leave Piseagard?”

“More than anything,” She sobbed, “But I can’t. My alpha will never permit it. I want.... I want... Max to... I can’t... He is already cruel to him... pinching lil’Max.... tethering him as kitten a post in the garden... to harden him up... he is two years old. I can’t expect you to take him but please help me find another pride that will.”

“We will help.” Misha affirmed. “We will help get you both out.”

She gazed at her little brother, lifting her tear damp fingers to stroke his cheekbone. “Such bright hope against the impossible.”

Misha prepared to tell her about Haven, or how she might be welcomed by Kath, if Eric pleaded her case. He wanted to explain that they would consult their Pride-Pack alpha, to leak how a movement was being made against Blackthorne’s rule, but Tyler called from the window that people were leaving the garden.

Zlata shot to her feet. “I’ve got to be back before Calvin. I told Jewel I had a migraine. She has Max. I’ve got to be in our tent before he gets back.”

Misha called to her, “Come find us during the run.”

“I’ll try.” She turned in the open door. “Thank you, Dmitri. Do what you can for Maxim.”

“What can we do?” Tyler broke the stunned silence in the wake of her departure.

“If everything goes as planned, things will change at Piseagard, or at least we’ll get Blackthorne to allow dissenters to leave.” Eric grimaced. “But Zlata is correct. She is mated. If her bloody alpha-mate won’t permit it, she would have to run.”

“But we can have somewhere for her to run to, Tiger.” Misha declared. “I won’t let our past deny her and her kitten a place at Haven, but perhaps she’d be happier in a cat pride.”

“I’ll speak with Mum in the morning.” Eric agreed. “We might have to practice some subterfuge on the final day to get Zlata and Maxim separate from the rest of Piseagard.”

Tyler bumped Misha’s shoulder. “We’ve got the experts here. Jared, Jensen, Sandy, Ossian and Mattie. It wouldn’t be the first time they whipped a cat or two out from under Piseagard’s nose.”

Thoughts of his sister’s life with Calvin, possible grim futures for his nephew, and memories of his torment with Kurt and Julie tossed and stirred in Misha’s mind. He slept little, grabbing short spells of unconsciousness when he nuzzled into his mates’ scents. 

Morning brought some progress. Eric and Jared called Ty who was already prepared that there could be Piseagard refugees depending on the outcome of the Moot. Zlata and Maxim would be welcome. Kath heard them out with a grim face. She acknowledged Zlata’s situation but raised the sticking point, Calvin. If an outpouring of stories followed Misha’s testimony, then Zlata’s voice could be heard too. The other prides would support her flight from an abusive alpha.

Misha hoped he would be able to catch his sister amid those wandering through the craft stalls. Plenty of other tartan armband wearers visited the conservatory during the day, but not Zlata. 

It was a busy day which kept Misha’s spiralling thoughts at bay. Misha and Tyler manned the stall with Sandy and Jensen. Their alpha mates came and went. Eric spent longest leaning against a supporting pillar behind their spot.

There had been a bit of a kerfuffle when the other prides found out that Haven had been granted the prime spot of middle table. Alpha Taylor Cole from Deptford moved amongst everyone, organising and smoothing out problems. She winked at Jared as she said loudly that she had given Haven the coveted spot as new attendees. Jensen’s jealous stink eye when she batted her lashes and rubbed Jared’s shirt sleeve was noted by Misha, who stored it as ammunition to tease his friend later.

Tyler’s brother Parker was in charge of Marches’ table displaying woodwork and pottery on one side, while Baan set up their pottery, lace and pressed flowers on the other. Parker and Tyler’s relationship was polite and cool. No affection lingered between them. They had not stayed in touch over the years. Misha checked his mate was alright being so close to his former family, but Tyler brushed off his worries saying he had reconciled his feelings about his old pride a long time ago. 

“I am a Havener, blessed with a wonderful family.” Tyler kissed Misha sweetly. Taking his time to steal soft nips to Tyler’s bottom lip, Misha murmured his total agreement.

“Hey, Love Cats!” Sandy huffed. “You wanna help out here. We need your cake decorator’s eye, Misha.”

“Very appealing.” Eric approved, moving round front to see the result of their work, when Misha had finished adjusting their display to perfection.

Prints of Jared’s Tiree scenes and laminated recipes from Misha’s kitchen spread out in front of jars of Josie’s Haven Whisky Marmalade, knitted seal toys, and Sandy’s essential oil blends. Jake’s hand stitched cotton tote bags were pinned to hang along the edge.

Jensen’s display of Omega Voices leaflets in a Perspex holder garnered some attention, with three young unmated Deptford students taking a handful. Jensen was happy to pencil Samantha Ferris’s contact details onto the back of one, telling the omegas that the West London Wolf Pack’s Second had been personally appointed Omega Voices’ legal eagle by Lord and Omega Richings.

It became obvious that Piseagard were boycotting Haven’s table. Each tartan armband wearing cat averted their eyes as they skipped past the Isle Pride-Pack’s table.

“Fuck them.” Jensen snorted derisively as another couple turned their backs.

“Their loss.” Misha surmised.

“True.” Sandy agreed as she built a new precarious pyramid out of Whisky Marmalade pots.

“How did you cope with this growing up?” Jensen asked. “I thought being an omega orphan at Ackles was bad. Did you all face this prejudice?”

“Marches wasn’t so bad. They have a pureblood policy. Parker didn’t leave,” Tyler lowered his voice, “And he wasn’t he gelded, but there was no pureblood mate for him either.”

“Wiltshire was similar. I think the other kittens were too frightened of my Mother and Father to pick on me.” Eric chuffed before reminding them, “but when she was clawing her way up the pack hierarchy Mother ready to force me into being gelded if it furthered her cause.”

Misha looked out the window in vain for Zlata, again. He wondered what his little nephew looked like. Did he have poached egg markings like he did, or maybe Peter’s genes trumped and Maxim was a dinger for a pureblood?

“Where did you get these recipes?” A mature chestnut haired omega, with a slight paunch asked. His light well faded cheek scars lit his face as he smiled and held up the card for Misha’s Lemoncello Drizzle Cake.

“They are mine.” Misha held out his hand. “Beta Misha Pellegrino. I’m Haven’s official baker.”

“Baker extraordinaire.” Tyler tagged on.

“Gary Carlyle.” The omega introduced, shaking each Havener’s hand. “My mate is Baan Alpha.”

Discussing the best scone recipe, how to use beetroot as food colouring, and receiving Gary’s secret tip of canned strawberries in fruitcakes, Misha began to feel accepted by the Moot. The Baan Alpha-mate swapped the complete set of Misha’s creations for two incredibly pretty lace drawstring bags, which the twins would love. Meanwhile Tyler had bartered hard with Parker. In exchange for a box of marmalade he got hot iron decorated wooden hair barrettes for their and Jensen’s girls, Tyra, Isla and the adult Haven ladies. 

Jensen set off with a blast of Jared prints. He was grinning like a loon when he returned. Readily displaying his hessian bag full of gifts for everyone back home, from crocheted toys, glass bead earrings, handmade herbal soaps, to beeswax candles.

Jared stopped by with the official viewing party. Alpha Omundson complimented all their offerings sincerely, accepting one of Jake’s bags with some of Sandy’s potions for his daughter. Jared hissed that he was bored to his back teeth, promising to come stay a while as soon as he was released, and swearing to Jensen that he had never appreciated how much patience Stephen Amell must have in his role as Lord Richings.

At lunch hour the interior doors opened and teams of teenage stewards poured through bearing trays of teas, coffees, sandwiches and pastries. Eric broke away from chatting to his childhood friend and fellow alpha, Adrian from Wiltshire, coming to sit on the floor between his mates.

As if food was a calling beacon, Jared turned up with his own private tray of roast beef and horseradish rolls. 

“I don’t believe they made you a special tray.” Jensen snatched a roll off the tray which balanced on his alpha’s knee.

Jared smirked at him. “I might’ve used my charms in the kitchen.”

“Might you?” Jensen squinted. “Those charms belong to me.”

“Uh-huh.” Jared agreed readily, leaning over to lick a smear of butter from the corner of Jensen’s lips.

There was so much food that Jensen took to ripping tiny strings of beef, sucking the spicy horseradish off them, and feeding the resulting meat to his baby kitten.

“She’ll get sick.” Sandy warned.

“She won’t.” Jensen contradicted, “All my kitty-pups have cast iron tummies like their Daddy.”

Erica Carroll turned up to take their trays away. 

“Thank you, Alpha.” Jared smiled at the young steward.

“Jaroslaw, can I ask you something?” She whispered so softly that Misha had to strain to hear.

Jared nodded.

“How did you leave?”

Jared’s demeanour shifted from playful to serious. “Is someone hurting you, Erica?”

“No, not me. It’s Kennedy.” She scooted a glance over her shoulder. “She’s omega. The Alpha wants to... I don’t know... I’ve heard things... and me too. We have no choice. We have to go where he pleases. How did you get out?”

“I went to university.” Jared stated.

Her head fell. “That won’t work. Alpha won’t let our school take final year exams anymore. Only those he has marked for a trade get to train outside the pride.”

“Don’t lose hope, Erica.” Misha touched her arm. “You are of age. Kennedy will be soon. There may be a way for you both to go.”

“It is not so simple,” Erica shook her head, “My family. Kennedy’s gender. Where would we go?”

“There used to be pride exchanges,” Eric commented. “Where teenagers would spend a summer or a year with another pride, perhaps this Moot might restart that tradition?”

“Piseagard would still have to participate,” The young alpha huffed, “and I can’t see Kennedy getting a pass. Thank you, all of you.”

“Geez,” Jensen harrumphed, “and they are purebloods.”

“Yeah,” Misha nodded. “You know, if you guys hadn’t rescued me, I’d be dead by now.”

“Meesh,” Tyler body-planted onto Misha’s lap, swamping him in kisses, “Don’t even say it.”

“Maybe it has to be said,” Jared ground out. “That’s the whole point. Get them all to face up to what is happening.”

Their mood was slow to rise as the craft fair recommenced. Jared got pulled aside by an alpha/beta Manx couple, who had cousins at Piseagard.

“Things have gone downhill. No communication with outside. Jamie had to breakaway from a shopping expedition to secretly use a Crieff gift-shop’s phone, last winter.” Alpha Stanistreet explained. “You don’t understand what is going on there, Jared.”

“Then tell me.” He pleaded.

Unfortunately a few Piseagard cats hovered at Marches’ table, making the Stanistreets skitter away. 

Annalisa led a group of her friends over to see Jake’s colourful tote bags. While Jensen expertly fielded honestly curious questions about being a wolf among cats, Misha glanced around the room. 

Through the doorway, her red-hair tied in a high pony tail, coming closer, was Julie. Misha’s throat closed, almost preventing speech and breathing.

Jensen apologised to their host’s daughter and yelped to Jared, “Watch the stall.”

“Julie,” Misha stuttered, “and motherfucking Kurt following.”

Whisked sideways, his feet copying Jensen’s movement, Misha stumbled behind the Marches, Deptford and Piseagard stalls, and out into blessed clear fresh air. He bent double against the whitewashed wall, concentrating on his breathing. They were in there, right behind him. He began to hyperventilate. He could hear Eric and Tyler’s running feet coming after them. 

Water leaked out of the corners of Misha’s eyes. Then he was covered by Eric. He plastered his face into his alpha-mate’s tee. 

“They, them, they are in there.” Misha gulped.

“I know.” Eric’s hand rubbing gently up and down his arm helped to ground him.

“I can’t.” 

“I know.” Eric repeated. “You are so brave.”

“Tiger,” Misha mewled. “It is incredibly difficult.”

His mate tightened his hug. Tyler stuck his face between them, sympathetic tears welling in his eyes.

“Oh Mish,” the omega said tenderly.

“I had left it all behind, so far behind. You both and the girls, you are my family. Not Zlata or those people. My mates, we have a blessed life... that back there was a nightmare, every freaking day...” Tears poured down his face, wiped tenderly away with Eric’s thumbs. “A living time-crawling nightmare.... I don’t know if I can...”

“Okay,” Eric said with total understanding. “It is okay.”

“What?” Misha’s tears stemmed. He tilted his head at his taller mate.

“No-one is commanding you. I never would. We’ll go to Mother, tell her you are not testifying.”

Misha couldn’t believe it. He feared disappointing his mates, and the others who wanted him to speak, but there was no hint of regret or condemnation from his Tiger. Tyler’s adoring expression did not falter.

He took a few deep breaths. In his side vision he could see a few younger Piseagard children playing chase. He thought of what Erica had told them, of the fate of his nephew, and how by staying silent he was repeating how Zlata and so many others had sinned against him.

“I can’t leave them.” He whispered.

“Who, Mish?”

“Maxim, other kittens, Erica... all of them. Who will speak for them? If not me?” He resolved.

“Misha Pellegrino.” Eric beamed in admiration.”You are an extraordinary person.”

Misha huffed. “Will you check they are gone? I don’t want to see them.”

Tyler gripped onto Misha’s hand as Eric stuck his head around the open door, scanning the crowd. He only knew the vile couple from Misha’s description, but luckily Jared and Jensen were waving that the coast was clear.

On his alpha’s arm, not letting go of Tyler’s hand, Misha re-entered.

He nearly bolted when he felt a hand touch him from behind, but it was a friendly face. Alpha Rick Worthy, the US envoy and international feline representative, smiled in greeting.

“Alpha Eric, Beta Misha, Omega Tyler, well met.” The powerful alpha inclined his head in greeting.

“Your Excellency.” Eric answered as he pumped the older alpha’s hand. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“The honour is mine,” Alpha Worthy spoke with layers of sincerity, “to shake your hand, Beta Misha.”

“He knows,” Eric said redundantly as Worthy moved on. “And he recognises what everyone will, that my mate is the bravest most wonderful werecat.”

“I don’t feel so brave.” Misha confessed. “I’m scared shitless.”


	7. Run

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Jensen and Jared spent the Great Moot Run ensconced in Broads’ Alpha’s private garden. It was prettier tonight, virtually empty because most werecats had headed up or down stream or into the fields beyond the camping ground. It was a mild May evening. Tall stemmed tulips swayed in a southerly breeze. Jared acted protective alpha Dad around Dallas, but actually father and daughter cat were riveted in fascination, perched with their chins tipping over the rockery edge of the Koi pond. Jensen took his time sniffing and nosing under rose bushes and into the heady smells of the herb garden. 

Initially Tyler and Misha stretched their legs with Sandy and Ossian, but soon were content to curl up on one of the garden benches. They looked so sweet, purring and snuggling into Eric, who stayed in human form. Jensen wished that he could use his long wolf tongue to lick all their problems away.

By silent agreement the Haveners headed back to the Long House when a group of playful cats entered their leafy sanctuary from the far side. Eric kindly opened every door, so no shifting was necessary until they were back in their rooms. It was too early to retire for the night. Jared suggested they make a pot of tea and take it to the room which was being used as council chamber waiting chamber, but normally was a sitting room. Pulling comfortable leather armchairs and sofas close to long windows, they had a fabulous view of returning werecats under the outdoor lights. They could overhear many laughing and joking as they went by on their way upstairs to the sleeping quarters. Dallas was whiny tired after the evening fresh air, but finally settled on a round velvet cushion between Jared and the sofa arm. Jensen kept an eye on her, but she was out for the count.

“Well that’s a juicy tale,” Eric chortled.

“Hum?” Jensen queried his pride-pack mates jolly faces.

“The Manx Third’s mate went into heat two miles downriver, in hearing distance of a human farm.” Jared’s voice filled with laughter as he explained.

“They’ll think someone’s being murdered from the calling howls.” Tyler tittered.

“Naw,” Eric wrinkled his nose, “Bet they’re used to oddities from their werecats neighbours along the River Ant.”

“Alpha Padalecki?” 

Jensen twisted his neck to see over the high back of the russet leather sofa. It was the Wolverine Observer, a middle aged alpha with a goatee beard and thick square frame spectacles. 

“Yes?” Jared smiled in welcome. “Did you and Alpha Pettigrew participate in the run?”

“I did not, but my lynx colleague ran.” The alpha licked his lower lip. “I seek Alpha Omundson or Katherine Pellegrino, but I fear they are still abroad.”

“Can we help?” Jared gestured to the free chair on his left. “We returned early. I am sure our Craig family also continue to enjoy the night.”

To Jensen’s eye the observer looked nervous, maybe unsure if Jared was the right person to speak to, or whether he should speak at all.

“Tea, Alpha Terry?” Jensen asked, taking the role of host.

“No, thank you, Omega Padalecki. I have concerns. We both have.” The wolverine alpha made a grumbling noise. “Alpha Pettigrew feels we should remain purely in our observing role.”

“But you don’t?” Jared leaned forward.

“There is a strained atmosphere.” He huffed. “This sounds tenuous when I say it aloud. We expected certain historic tensions, and we know about the regime at Piseagard. Who doesn’t, hey? I was surprised to see Sue Armstrong from Marches go to Donald Blackthorne’s room before the run. Wiltshire's Fredric Lehne handpicked the fox observer coming to replace us tomorrow, while the wolf observer is an academic more interested in writing a paper on the Moot than his designated duty.”

“Do you think there is a plot of some sort?” Jared’s brow furled tight. Jensen placed his palm lightly on his alpha’s thigh.

“Honestly? There is little evidence, but in my gut... I don’t like it. Perhaps you might contact Alpha Olsson? Or talk with Alpha Omundson here? Maybe it would be better if you could arrange last minute observer substitutes? Do you have a wolf or fox alpha at Haven?”

Jared nodded, “But as an attending pride, Sean O’Brien and Ty would not be considered neutral.”

“No, no, you misunderstand. I meant that they might have contacts at the Wolf Council or Fox Authority.” Alpha Terry stood, smoothing down his trousers. “Now, would you excuse me? I hope I have been erring on the side of paranoia.”

“Better to be safe than sorry.” Jared affirmed, shaking his hand.

“Ouf,” Jensen puffed as Jared sat back down. “Are you going to call Ty? Do you think he was for real?”

“I’m going to head up to our room straight away. If we are going to swap, I don’t know, say Sean’s Dad and Robbie Amell for the scheduled observers Ty will have to get cracking and possibly one of Stephen’s fleet of helicopters.”

“He doesn’t have fleet of them.” Jensen snorted.

“Hey, we don’t even have a remote control one!” Jared called over his shoulder.

“Is he still sore about Conor crashing his helicopter toy into the Broch cliff?" Tyler clicked his tongue.

“I swear,” Jensen rolled his eyes in long suffering fondness, “It was more Jay Bird’s toy than Conor’s.”

“I think that plan could work.” Misha blurted.

“Huh?” Jensen and Eric both responded, while Tyler’s mouth dropped at the sudden change of topic.

“Remember the helicopter rescue attempt? While we all did our best to climb for it." Misha recalled.

"Matt revealed his secret Spiderman side and scaled the rocks for the smashed thing.” Jensen added.

Misha nodded, “And one of our less than honest guests slipped behind the bar and emptied the cash register.”

“Boy, do I?” Jensen winced. “Ty roared so loud in the Wolf-mind that Jake and I got migraine.”

“So,” Misha made conjuring circles in the air with his index finger. “If we could add an extra distraction to the farewell ceremony, like something that would bring every alpha to the front like bees to honey...”

“Like an honour or a commemorative badge presented to them,” Tyler got on board.

“If we have the people carrier packed and ready to go, and we get a message to Zlata, maybe through Erica, we could get her and Maxim away from the rest of the pride,” Misha’s eyes widened as he expounded his plan.

“Then it would be pedal to the metal.” Jensen grinned. He imagined them racing from Broads with Zlata and her little toddling kitten. The exhilaration of saving Maxim would be wonderful. Jensen’s heart ached for the little mite, only two years old and condemned by Alpha Blackthorne’s judgement.

“I like it.” Eric hummed appreciatively. “I’m sure I could get Mum to propose a roll call of alphas to be recorded on Moot records. Jared could second it. And she could make sure that Jay, Ozzy and I get called early in the list.”

“I hope we can see Zlata or get the message to her.” Misha chewed his bottom lip. “We could have it all planned and she wouldn’t know.”

Eric pulled his beta mate in for a hug, “Even if we can’t let her know beforehand. If Calvin, Paul, Donald and all are called up, then we can make our move quickly and get her to run with us.”

“And Mish,” Tyler reminded gently, “Maybe it will all be resolved before then. If she can ask for help in the Open Floor after you have spoken.”

Hearing his mate’s familiar footfall, Jensen anticipated telling him of their rescue scheme, but Jared’s face was like thunder.

“What did Ty say?” Jensen gasped.

“He is on the case,” Jared surmised briefly. A piece of A4 paper flapped in his hand. “On my way back, bloody Andy Staite handed me this.”

“What?” Misha craned his neck trying to read it.

“Schedule change.” Jared fumed. “After all that crap and horseshit when we arrived, they swapped the session on future Moots and division of funding to Monday morning, and therefore the Open Floor is tomorrow afternoon.”

Jensen threw a look of worry towards Misha, whose face drained of blood.

“Of course, it makes practical sense,” Jared seethed through his teeth, “decisions on the next Moot should be made once this one is almost done, but _co-incidentally_ Alphas Terry and Pettigrew leave after lunch tomorrow, while the fox and wolf observers do not have to be here until late afternoon.”

“Do you think they know?” Misha’s voice came out hushed and panicky.

“I don’t know.” Jared’s shoulders slumped. “Maybe Blackthorne suspects that all us Haveners will raise our old issues with Piseagard, and he is trying to put us off. Maybe even some of those in on the plan don’t want your damning story told in front of observers from other species. I don’t know.” He threw up his hands.

“What do you think, Mish?” Tyler asked, “Does this put you off?”

“No.” Misha clenched his jaw. “No way. I came here to tell. If I have to do it 18 hours earlier than expected, so be it.”

“Right on,” Jensen encouraged. “Fucking sneaks, I hate sneaks.”

Jared chuffed a laugh. “My Kochanie, they better not slander Misha at that Open Floor, you’ll be all over them.”

“Like a rash, Jay Bird.” Jensen smiled, glancing to check on Misha.

“You’ll be there?” Misha gaped.

“Of course we will,” Jensen answered rapidly, “We wouldn’t let you face those prick-asses alone. Unless you don’t want us to...”

“No, no,” Misha insisted. “I’d be honoured.”

“At Open Floor, all alpha trios attend in case a vote is called on an issue.” Jared explained, “So Ozzy’ll be there too. Sandy would too, but Finlay...”

“Not information for little ears.” Misha nodded with a grimace.

Soon after, with worries and anxieties preying on their minds, they headed to bed. Jensen suckled Dallas while Jared showered. His dear omega daughter’s claws were growing strong and it prickled when she kneaded into his chest. Luckily his wolf pelt was thick and offered extra insulation. She favoured the nipple closest to his face. Jensen was sure it was because she loved a full body lick from her mother’s tongue. Her purrs drew Jared in cat form to snuggle around them making a parent-nest for their little one to rest.

Before dawn, Dallas pawed Jensen's face, awake with full bladder mewls. He shifted and dashed to hold her over the toilet bowl. If she had not woken him with needy mewls in his ear, he doubted he would have heard soft plaintive cries coming from outside their door. Sure it was a youngster, Jensen did not immediately wake Jared. He tip toed to the crib and deposited Dallas, fluffing her blankie around her. Wondering if perhaps some kitten had gotten separated from his or her family during the Moot Run, the omega silently eased the door open, peeping round, green eyes seeking a kitten on the move or hiding in a corner.

On the floor against the small amount of wall space between their door and the Pellegrino’s one, was an old scuffed navy duffel, unzipped, a thick banded but small tail hung outside. Awful lost muffled cries emanated from within.

“Hey, hey little one,” Jensen cooed as he sank to his knees. 

A corner of white paper poked out of a side pocket. Jensen pulled on it for any clue.

_Dmitri, I cannot change the past. My time is run. Please, save my son, and remind him that his mother loved him. Z_

“Oh crap.” Jensen gushed. He gathered the whole duffel into his arms, racing through the door, and straight for the interconnecting one between their rooms. “Hush Maxim, good boy, we’ll have you out in a second.”

He knocked as loud as he dared. Then dropping to his knees he carefully opened the bag.

“Wassit, morn’ Sh-Jen?” Jared incoherently struggled to wake.

Noise of movement came from the other side of the door, but Jensen focused on the small alpha kitten’s distressed blue eyes staring up at him. He lifted him out with all the care he took when his own children had been upset or ill, cradling the little one over his heart and allowing Maxim to draw back his lips to scent him. Maybe because he could pick up baby Dallas, or sensing a non-threatening omega, Maxim surrendered to Jensen’s kind humming and soft fur strokes. He tucked his head into the wolf omega’s armpit, not looking up when Jared stumbled across the room, nor when Eric flung open the door, eyes corvine with potential threat alert. 

“There’s a note.” Jensen managed to say, jerking his head towards the duffle. He focused on the kitten in his arms, leaving the two alphas to deal with the implications of Zlata’s message.

“Is that?” Misha asked, bare-chested, hair askew, eyes narrowed at the body curling into Jensen.

Maxim mewled loudly when Jensen attempted to get a hand under his chest to pass him over to Misha. 

“Leave him be.” Misha said tenderly, reaching his fingers to stroke along his nephew’s head and side. “He’s so soft.”

“Young fur.” Jensen hummed. 

Maxim perked his head up, using his upper lip to push his scent along Misha’s index finger. The blue of his eyes shrank as his pupils dilated. With a meep, the two year old stretched his neck seeking Misha’s hand.

“You must scent of family.” Jensen smiled, this time easily passing the kitten over.

“Ooh, Mish, he’s got your poached egg markings with a banded pureblood tail, how handsome!” Tyler gushed from Misha’s side. He reached in to tickle the kitten’s paler belly. “Who’s a darling boy? Huh? You’re gorgeous, Maxim.”

A quiet purr trembled through him. Misha cradled him close to his chest, letting Maxim give a little patch of skin under his nipple cleansing licks.

“You need to read this.” Eric said grimly, offering Misha his sister’s note.

Jensen watched Misha’s eyes move across the brief words. A crestfallen expression marred his features. 

“Oh Lord,” He expelled a breath, offering the note to Tyler. “Not good. Did she run? Or... I don’t want to imagine.”

“I don’t like the message or the tone of it.” Eric huffed.

“None of us do.” Jared agreed. “I’d love to race upstairs to Piseagard’s rooms and demand they show us she’s okay, or down to Calvin’s tent and tear him a new one.”

“You can’t.” Jensen reasoned with his sometimes hot-headed mate. “If she has run, we need to give her time.”

“Would she really run without her son?” Tyler chuffed disbelievingly.

“I don’t know,” Misha shook his head. “I never could divine Zlata’s thoughts or motivations. Maybe she thought this was the only way.”

“I’m gonna wake Mattie.” Jared announced. “Keep him in the loop, and make him aware that we could have a beta from Piseagard in trouble.”

Jensen nodded knowing his alpha needed to act, to do something to help.

“Do you want to put him down with Dallas, while you get dressed?” Jensen suggested to his friend, “I don’t think any of us are going to get back to sleep.”

“Wasn’t sleeping anyway.” Misha muttered tellingly.

Happy to see Maxim was being employed as a pillow for Dallas’s head, Jensen quickly changed into plain black trousers and a smart heavy cotton cream shirt. He put Jake’s green scarf aside to wrap round his neck when they left the room. All the time he wondered what Jared was discussing with the police detective, how long they would have Maxim with them, where was Zlata, and how would Misha cope with this new development.

Misha proved his amazing resilience, standing tall, dressed in a smart dark grey suit with crisp white shirt underneath. He was dressed for battle, for the Open Floor later in the day. He crouched on the balls of his feet, searching through the few possessions in the worn duffel. He emptied it piece by piece. Three sets of denim shorts, three plain pale blue tees, pull-ups, socks, a pair of toddler trainers, a soother dangling from a string with a pin, and a ripped blankie depicting a teddy bear with a smaller toy bear dangling from his paw. 

Maxim’s head peeped over the edge of the crib. When he saw the blanket, he gave a strangled yowl.

“It’s okay, Baby Boy,” Misha tried to reassure. “I’m not taking it.”

With a flying leap, and pretty impressive mid-jump shift for a toddler, Maxim bounced sideways on Jared and Jensen’s bed, slid from the covers to the floor and tottered as fast as his little legs could go.

“Mine.” He screeched, then with a hitching breath, “Peas. Good boy. Peas.”

“Such nice manners,” Jensen complimented.

“Here, Little Fellow,” Misha held out the blankie. 

Maxim snatched the blanket and held it tight to his chin and mouth. Enormous blue eyes under a thatch of deep brown hair darted from Misha to Jensen and back. “Mine. Not taking?”

“No, Maxim. I won’t take it.” Misha answered gravely, while offering the pacifier too.

The way the boy held on to his comfort items for dear life made Jensen suspect that perhaps their removal had been used as punishment by Calvin. 

“Where’s Mamma?” Maxim asked, peering around the room. “I want Mamma.”

“Mummy had to go away for a while, “ Misha answered, “I’m your Uncle Misha and she left you here so I could take care of you while she is gone. OK?”

“Unca Misha?” Maxim checked, “Like in the story?”

“What story, Pet?” Jensen asked lightly.

“The bad boys all yukky and Misha very brave. Mamma tells me.” Maxim said proudly. “I’s brave.”

“I bet you are.” Misha said scooping him up, blankie and all. He met Jensen’s pained gaze with a heartbreaking knowing wince of his own.

Eric and Tyler’s appearance led to fussing and admiring of Misha’s nephew. They propped the young alpha on the bed between them while Jensen took the job of messaging Sandy. 

Dallas woke up and insisted on her fair share of attention.

“’Mega kitty’s pretty.” Maxim giggled as Dallas wound her way around his arm.

“Her name’s Dallas,” Jensen informed him. “She’s mine and Jared’s baby girl. Jared was here when you arrived.”

“Big alpha.” Maxim nodded.

“Yeah.” Jensen grinned.

“I’m bigger when we shift.” Eric peeved playfully, “almost nine foot bigger.”

Tyler rolled his eyes, while the others laughed at the long running joke. 

“I’s hungry.” Maxim rubbed his tummy.

“What do you like?” Misha asked, “We can ask for toast or banana, or maybe some porridge?”

Maxim blinked at him. “I go...” he made a suckling noise.

“Do you want to pop in your binkie or would you like a bottle?” Tyler asked, “Sandy’s got some for Caitlin’s juice.”

Maxim wrinkled his nose.

Jensen chuckled. “I know. You want to join Dallas.”

The little alpha’s eyes lit up. He licked his lips. “Me too?”

“Yes, you too.” 

Jensen barely had spoken before Maxim had shifted back. It took a few moments longer for Jensen to shed his clothes and find a comfortable position on the rug. Tyler kindly situated Dallas for an earlier than expected morning feed. Maxim began to follow with four paw happy springs, but when Jensen transformed into wolf, the little alpha skittered to a sudden stop.

“It’s alright, Maxim,” Misha encouraged with a laugh to his voice. “Jen is a wolf omega and Jared is a werecat. Nothing to be scared of. Jen’s oldest is a big strong alpha boy like you.”

Maxim cocked his ear to his uncle’s words. He made a “Muureep”, then continued gingerly. 

Dallas latched on to feed on her second favourite nipple. Jensen was proud of her, only a few months old and already with a nascent understanding of the importance of sharing. Although less common practice in Haven, in Prides mothers often fed communally. If Dallas had been born a season earlier, Jensen would have jumped to offer his milk to Lear’s twins. There was peace to having Maxim join Dallas. Jensen began to give both kittens a tongue bath. He could hear Misha and his mates speculating on Zlata’s whereabouts using roundabout language so not to distress her son.

At Jared's return, Jensen offered his personalised version of a long slow adoring cat blink. With a sigh the tall alpha sank to the floor next to him. His alpha's long expert fingers worked out a knot from Jensen's shoulder muscle, while he told of Alpha Mattie's plan to make discreet enquiries about Zlata. The rhythm of Jared's voice lulled his omega into a more relaxed state. Scratchy tongues and little teeth prevented Jensen from drifting into semi-consciousness. Aware of their suckling slowing, knowing Jared was by his side, Jensen closed his eyes and curved around the kittens, protecting them from the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some answers in the next one, I promise.
> 
> Thanks again for reading and to those who have commented or left kudos.


	8. Stand Up - part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I divided this chapter because it grew into a monster. Part Two should be up in a couple of days time once I've edited and proof-read.

“It is time, Beta Misha.”

Misha swore he would not breakdown before the assembled Alphas. He would not be a victim. He would not cry as he relived those years. He would not shed a tear.

He took Eric’s hand, rising from the leather sofa in the waiting area. Tyler slipped his arm into the crook of Misha’s elbow.

Double doors opened into a long conference room with a few rows of seating between the Alphas’ table and the windows. Eric’s Mother inclined her head. Jared and Ossian offered supportive nods. Jared clenched his fist in a message to be strong or maybe that he was ready to punch various werecats’ lights out.

Jensen sat in the front row keeping empty seats for Eric and Tyler. Dallas and Maxim were under Sandy’s care at the campground.

Zlata was still missing. Misha hoped she was far away and running fast. A dark glower from her mate, Calvin, leaning against a window frame, flickered the prospect of trouble about her whereabouts being raised before they left the Open Floor.

Placing one foot in front of the other keeping his breathing steady, Misha made inexorable progress towards a wooden podium. It looked like he should be stepping up to open the Bible for a reading from Ecclesiastes. At a loss from the withdrawal of his mates’ touches, Misha gripped the rim of solid wood.

Erica Carroll sat with her family. Kurt and Julie with Kennedy and their next eldest, Beta Leo, sat in the row behind the Carrolls. Every vertebra in Misha’s neck tightened as he raised his head high and met the alpha’s cruel beady eyes. Anger bubbled under his skin. It fired him up, lent him a measure of courage. A part of him wanted to shift and extend his claws, leap over the chairs and cut gouges in Kurt’s face. 

Under the beat of his pulse and the pull of oxygen into his body, Misha heard from memory, like a recorded message, Eric’s Dad’s voice, sad and low in his mind. He could picture Mark, crouched over, Jake leaning against his side, as the older raven told stories of ancient wrongs. How his mother’s soft voice whispered her shame at the fearful vengeance wreaked on silent cats by her raven-mate. 

Misha could name names. He could list those who turned blind eyes, called him Doll, cuffed the back of his head, who were content to walk past his starving frame when he could barely stand to hang out the Fullers’ laundry. 

Where would he stop? Other prides knew things were dark in the Scottish Pride but only now were willing to intervene. For years until that fateful day at Perth Clinic, Sandy and Ossian never lifted a paw to help him. Afraid of the consequences for their son, Jared’s parents closed their eyes. Until her son was threatened, Zlata did not open her mouth to speak. Rendered powerless by their own compliance and the threat that their children would be next, Misha’s former pride enabled Blackthorne in the creation of their own gulag. 

There was no satisfaction in seeing Beta Peter unable to meet his eye, and no joy in seeing shame flush Barbara Carroll cheeks. Nothing would erase his years of abuse and slavery.

Misha shifted his gaze to Eric and Tyler, Jensen, Jared’s proud nod, and the encouraging faces of those in on their plan.

Alpha Omundson stood. His face was pale and drawn with strain. Their host alpha cleared his throat, “Open Floor commences. Please do not interrupt the speaker. Respectfully hold your questions for discussion. Beta Dmitri Pellegrino from Haven Pride-Pack will be our first speaker.”

“My name is Misha.” 

He took a deep breath. Some people had craned their necks. Maybe he had whispered. He needed to be heard. Starting again, his deep voice rang out. “My name is Misha Collins-Pellegrino. I was born in Piseagard, of mixed blood.”

He touched his scar-free face, unnecessarily, but the simple act engaged some of the neutrals in his tale, and they leaned forward in interest.

“I will not revise my childhood amongst those who believed they were inherently better than me. There was no sanction under Alpha Blackthorne’s rule for those who would scapegoat, bully and inflict their frustrations on lesser members of his pride. _Be tough_ echoed by teachers, neighbours, in my home and in my concussed head. My parents and my sister subscribed to our pride’s law.” Misha licked his dry lips.

Lucien, the Deptford Third, who was on the end of the long table, shot from his seat and placed his own glass of water on the podium. Misha smiled his thanks. 

“I finished school without prospects, a low ranked mixed blood beta teenager. In my naivety when called to Alpha to ‘discuss’ my future, I expected a farm role, with a pinch of hope for an apprenticeship within the pride. Only the exceptionally talented or those fulfilling needed roles got permission to leave Piseagard, like my friend Sandy’s beautician training, or my best friend Jared’s art degree.”

“What happened, Beta Misha?” The Baan Alpha asked.

“I have digressed,” Misha acknowledged. His time was limited. He needed to get on point. “I was ordered to follow Alpha Fuller. Omega Julie was pregnant with twins and they had little ones at home. I would be their Beta nanny. I was confused. I had not expressed interest in childcare. Going home for my belongings was not an option. I was told I didn’t need them. Kurt pinned me to the wall inside their door, pressed on my throat with his forearm, and told me I had nothing, I was nothing, no one wanted me, and I was there to serve him. He took my clothes...” Misha gulped. “... in front of the children. He bit my face, my cheek, not deep enough to scar, but enough to bleed. Released I dived for the door. The back of my legs were slashed with the metal end of a golf umbrella, wielded by Julie.”

He could smell the stale air of that hallway, see dust mounds on the skirting board, feel the blaze of pain across his ripped calves, hear Julie’s mocking laugh and taste copper bile at the back of his throat. Realising his head had dropped while lost in the flashback, Misha lifted his gaze to a silent room. A nerve in Eric’s leg was making his knee jiggle. Seeing his mate fighting to contain his temper strengthened Misha to continue.

“That was my first five minutes. I was there for two years four months. Their Intended Mate,” He coughed, “Doll. They called me Doll, like a toy that could be kicked, spat upon, abused, thrown away, worthless and less than human.”

Someone was crying. Kennedy Fuller’s head was bent forward resting on the back of Erica Carroll’s chair as she was wracked with shame. 

Misha blinked. “I did not consent. I never consented to any of it. I did not consent to Kurt as my mate. I did not consent to be gelded. I wanted my own family. I wanted to find my own mate. I wanted to leave. I was 18 years old, trapped, and I did as I was told. They took my dignity, my virginity, and my name. I was brutalised, raped, starved and confined. I was kicked in passing by visitors. I was spat upon by their friends and their kittens. I cleaned until my fingers bled. I delivered Julie’s kittens, washed, clothed, fed and tended to them. I was isolated, humiliated, silenced, hidden...”

The words poured as if a dam had broken. They raced off Misha’s tongue, urgent to be heard. His nails dug into antique wood. His cheeks flared red with emotion. 

“The day came. They were pleased with my training.” Misha blew a long exhale at the memory of kneeling head bowed low in Tensure posture, dizzy from hunger, eyes rooted on the shiny toes of Alpha Blackthorne’s boots. “I was to be gelded. My mating to be confirmed and solemnised.”

Looking at the sea of faces before him, Misha confessed. “I gave up. They had broken me. I made a final desperate clawing protest at the Clinic in Perth, but Alpha Donald ordered sedation. I was finished, lost and ready to retreat into my mind awaiting death, because I was sure that eventually Kurt and Julie would go too far.” He took a sip of cool water. “When Jared came for me I thought I was hallucinating. It was so inconceivable that anyone would go against Alpha Blackthorne’s dictats. Ossian and Sandy fled with me, unable to return home once they’d assisted my flight. If Jared and his mate, Jensen, had not come, I would be dead.”

Alpha Omundson made to stand, but Misha had final words to add.

“Not one soul in Piseagard dared to speak on my behalf, because my fate was sanctioned, accepted, and decided by Alpha Blackthorne. This is the Rule of Piseagard.” Misha faced his former pride alpha. “I am not a victim. I will not be their victim. I survived. I overcame. I live.”

Tyler looked like he was about to clap, Eric like he would cry. No-one moved in the stunned crowd.

“Tell us, Beta Misha, how is your life now?” Rekha, the Deptford Alpha, broke the pall of silence.

“The support of good friends and my beloved mates brought me here today, but I bear my scars.” He replied simply.

Eric could not stay in his seat. He swept Misha in for a crushing hug, letting him bury his face for a few precious seconds before Tim Omundson called for order.

“I cannot testify on life in Piseagard now.” Misha stated, tucking closer to Eric. “None of us, until this Moot, kept contact with those we left behind. Sandy’s McCoy cousins could not know about her two beautiful kittens. Davina Padalecki lost touch with friends she had known since infancy. My sister...”

“How is this relevant?” Donald Blackthorne growled.

“I believe my son-in-law holds the floor.” Kath corrected the Piseagard Second, her voice full of esteem for Misha.

“My sister has left her alpha kitten in my care. I wish she was here to speak, because I cannot tell her tale. All she has confided in us would be hearsay?” Misha’s voice lifted in question, checking his facts. 

Alpha Omundson nodded to confirm.

“We have reported her disappearance to Detective Inspector Davies.” Misha continued, taking a smidgeon of satisfaction from Paul Blackthorne’s stifled flinch. “Now I am reporting to the council the whereabouts of a Piseagard kitten that nobody seems to have been searching for. Maxim is safe with us. We of Haven have had limited contact with many from our old pride, but some have expressed their worries. I hope that at this Open Floor, with the whole werecat community here to offer aid and advice, they might take the opportunity to voice concerns.”

Just as Barbara Carroll leaned sideways to speak to her daughter, and Zlata’s Ex looked like he might have something to say, Alpha Blackthorne pushed his chair back and bellowed.

“What is the meaning of this?” Blackthorne’s eyes shot fire, staring down any of his pride who looked like they might follow Misha’s lead. “Surely we are not going to listen to one disgruntled former pride member inciting dissent.”

Kath moved to rise to her feet, but Fredric grabbed her sleeve pulling her down and whispering something in her ear.

Instead Alpha Omundson rose to halt Blackthorne’s potential tirade. He raised his hand. “We will have a few moments of reflection following Beta Pellegrino’s emotional testimony. Let’s take fifteen minutes to stretch legs and when we resume we will commence a reasoned discussion on the implications of what we have heard. Open Floor will continue with everyone welcome to raise their concerns and any counterpoints in this venerable forum.”

The double doors were opened. Some left immediately. A few teen stewards ran in, one giving Kath a handwritten note which she read with furrowed brow. She detoured to the podium, patting Misha on the shoulder.

“A matter I must deal with,” She flapped the message, “You did well, Misha. We will eat together this evening, yes Eric?”

To her retreating back, Tyler huffed, “Guess we’re dining with Wiltshire tonight.”

“Only if you both wish to,” Eric smiled. “Sometimes she forgets I’m not ten years old anymore.”

Before Misha could add his two cents, Jared was pressing him in for a tight wonderful Pada-hug. “Knew you could do it,” Jared spoke into Misha’s ear, “So proud of you, Mish.”

Misha clung on tight. “Remember on the grassy slope, hiding from all those pureblood shitheads?”

Jared chuckled humourless, “Thought you only joined me there for my Dad’s Polish cigarettes.”

“That too,” Misha hummed, “You’d tell me that one day we’d show them all. And today I did.”

“Geez, Misha.” Jared pulled back, tears streaking his face. “You fucking did. Right in Blackthorne’s face.”

“Well done.” Jensen’s bright smile contrasted with his red-rimmed eyes. “You got me right here,” Jensen tapped at his heart, “Way before Jay Bird’s waterworks started.”

“Hey, who’s crying?” Jared dropped his voice into a fake growly alpha tone to raise a chuckle from them all, yet he still had to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Congratulations.” Ossian added. He cocked his head towards a few knots of Piseagard cats talking amongst themselves. “I think it worked.”

“Part one is done,” Misha sighed. “We will have to wait now to see if others will speak up.”

“Mum’s hopeful. The others have been very supportive to your old pride members over the last couple of days.” Eric said. “And Alpha Terry’s fears were unfounded. Blackthorne might have blustered but he didn’t get to stop your testimony, my love.”

Misha craned his neck to give Eric a peck on the lips. “Fingers crossed.”

A few of those who had ducked out began to return. Alpha Worthy, who had been one of them, marched towards them, beckoning them to meet him half way by the window.

“Trouble outside.” Worthy confided. 

“What?” Jared gasped. “What trouble?”

“Some scuffle in the camping ground.” Worthy peered at the half empty top table. “Don’t know if it is youngsters letting off steam, or something more sinister. Alpha Davies has been called to the riverbank by one of his team, but will rendezvous with me there.”

“What’s going on?” Ossian demanded, “My mate and kittens are out there.”

“And my nephew,” Misha added, surprised by the flare of protective instinct that kicked in at the very notion of Maxim being in the middle of a melee.

“Dallas!” Jensen’s eyes widened to saucers. He looked like he was ready to shift and leap straight through a window. Jared threw an arm around his mate’s shoulder.

“The security team is on it.” Worthy assured. “I will send a trusted member back here to disrupt the Open Floor if necessary, but I fear that is what Piseagard hopes we will do.”

“So you’re not taking their bait.” Jared caught on.

“Exactly.” The dignitary nodded. “If this is Blackthorne’s tactic it will fail.”

“Looks like we spoke too soon about the Wolverine Observer’s fears being unfounded.” Misha huffed.

“I’m gonna text Sandy to stay safe.” Ossian pulled out his phone. “I’m sure she stayed in our tent with the little ones, but maybe she should head up to your rooms?”

“Good idea,” Jared approved.

“Ask her if Dallas is ok?” Jensen beseeched.

“Of course,” Ossian replied, and seeing Misha chewing on his lower lip he added, “And Maxim too.”

“Thank you.” Misha sighed. 

The doors slammed shut.

Misha did a double take. None of the Baan Alpha Trio were in the room, nor Manx’s Third. Kath had not returned. Some seats were vacant. Some tartan armband wearing male teenage cats, who had not been in the room before the break, now stood in front of the closed doors.

“Should we wait for Wiltshire and Baan?” Alpha Rehka asked, voicing Misha’s thoughts.

“Open Floor. Recommencement.” Alpha Omundson’s voice cracked as he shook his head in her direction. “Comments on Beta Misha’s statement to the Moot. It has been suggested that mobile devices should be placed on the side table. No unwelcome interruptions.”

Ossian’s fingers flew on his device before he placed it into the hand of an older beta from Marches.

“I don’t like this.” Jensen grumbled. “Is this normal?”

Eric shrugged. “You would have thought they’d have done this before Mish spoke. I wonder what’s keeping Mum.”

Their intended strategy was that following Misha’s time, Kath would make a statement of support for her son-in-law before asking encouragingly if any other Piseagard members would like to speak. 

In her absence, Jared stood. 

Simultaneously, Paul Blackthorne got to his feet. When Omundson turned a blind eye to Jared and instead acknowledged Blackthorne, Misha got a bad feeling in his gut. Eric almost stepped closer to protest but Donald Blackthorne pointed to their vacated seats. Loathe to follow any order from that assbutt, Misha gritted his teeth. To refuse to sit would be churlish and might be perceived as drama seeking. He caught Eric around the wrist and gave a gentle tug. As they took their places, Jensen sucked a breath. Looking to see what had caused his friend to react, Misha saw Fredric sit in Kath’s seat. He put a hand flat on Eric’s thigh.

“Your Mum’s not back yet. Her Second is entitled, even obliged, to take her place.” Misha tried to soothe, while dampening down a rotten fluttering sensation in his gullet.

“Cheeky arsehole.” Eric seethed, staring daggers at the older alpha. “I’ll peck his eyes out.”

“We’ll hold him down.” Jensen whispered, helping to diffuse the tension.

“Order.” Broads’ Alpha called again. “Alpha Blackthorne of Piseagard has the floor.”

“We are pure.” Blackthorne’s eyes shone with demented fervour. “We are the pinnacle of our species, of all were-kind. Are we going to let a few mongrels tarnish our history? Our Moot? Our Name?”

“Misha wasn’t complaining about Purebloods. The problem is you.” Jared jumped to his feet unable to contain his rage.

A tiny smile graced Misha’s lips at the sight of his original champion leaping to his defence once more.

“Shut your mouth, Jaroslaw.” Blackthorne hissed. 

Calvin came behind Jared and pushed him down into his seat. 

“Do not interrupt Alpha Blackthorne.” Fredric Lehne commanded.

Shouts and calls of fighting came from outdoors. Jensen ignored protocol and ran to the window, but Kurt intercepted him and pushed him back.

“Get your hands off him.” Jared and Misha shouted at the same time.

Pushing Jensen into his seat, the balding alpha hissed with fetid breath, “Your time is done, Doll.”

Gulping hard, Misha summoned his courage, “You have that the wrong way round.”

As Eric pushed Kurt back with the palm of his hand on the shorter werecat’s shoulder, Kurt snickered, “Wrong as usual, Dumb Doll.”

Eric looked more like a raging bull than a raven as he loomed over Misha’s tormenter. “I’m going to tear you into tiny pieces.”

“Order!” Tim Omundson roared, over Eric’s threat and terrible howling from beyond the barricaded doors. “Alpha Blackthorne has the floor.”

Casting his eye around, Misha could see they were screwed. Piseagard stalwarts had taken point at the doors, behind Jared, near Deptford’s trio and amongst some attendees he suspected were sympathetic to their aims. He knew from their rare visits to Eric’s mother’s pride that the Wiltshire strongmen in the room were Fredric cronies, while their strongest supporters were either absent, silenced or inexplicably had changed sides. 

Coming to the Moot and in the lead up to this day, Misha had feared he would not be strong enough, that terror would steal his voice, or that in the face of Kurt and Julie his old programming would win. He had proved all those fears to be groundless. Now a greater fear consumed him. He felt for Tyler’s hand to squeeze, focused on the strong muscular shoulders of his alpha-mate, and prayed that they would all make it out of there unscathed.


	9. Stand Up -part two

The day darkened. Clouds covered the sun. Inside Broads Pride’s Alpha Long House, Alpha Paul Blackthorne commanded the Open Floor. Warming to his captive audience, the middle-aged alpha lectured on rule by decree and the ascendancy of the strong and pure. He shouted over chaotic noises from outside the council room. 

“One beta’s fantastical account of his failed first mating,” Blackthorne flicked his hand dismissively in Misha’s direction, “I am a reasonable man. I concede that Dmitri may have been the wronged party in that mating. Is one failed triple mating going to pull down our traditions, our independence, our agency? I say no.” He slammed his hand onto the table for emphasis.

Misha used Eric’s shoulder to support his balance, standing to face his former alpha. 

“I did not consent.” He could feel every nerve in his body trembling. “You decided. I wanted to leave. I wanted to find Jared.”

“Tosh,” Paul Blackthorne huffed a horrid laugh, dark eyebrows rising as if this was the first time he had heard a protest from Misha, “Your memory is faulty. All prides permit exile in lieu of gelding.”

“Then why did you try and make me come back?” Jared shouted over battering knocks on the barricaded door.

“Padalecki, Padalecki,” Paul shook his head wearily, “The cat who took Piseagard funds to get his degree and never kept his vow to return and teach our kittens.”

“You are twisting it. How dare you! Jared is the most honourable alpha.” Jensen yelled.

Other voices muttered in the rows behind.

“Silence.” Alpha Omundson banged the table. “One speaker at a time.”

An alpha bellow from beyond the door was audible in the pause, “Why is this door locked?”

From the waiting area someone screamed. 

Misha sucked a breath. 

Alpha Omundson gulped, his face greying and eyes darting to the door. He nodded to Piseagard’s Alpha. “Continue.”

The corner of Alpha Blackthorne’s lip twitched. Misha noted the way Broad’s Alpha side-eyed Piseagard’s senior members. Opening his mouth to whisper to Eric that he suspected Blackthorne was holding something over Tim Omundson’s head, Misha saw all colour drain from his mate’s face.

Eric fell to the floor, hard on his hip and side, his chair sent flying. In horror, Misha dropped to his knees, as his beloved alpha began to seize.

“No,” Misha gasped. “It can’t be.”

Tyler scooted around, shoving his knees under Eric’s head to give him a lap pillow. The fit subsided quickly to a quivering tremble in the unconscious alpha. Misha did his best to put Eric into the recovery position. Jensen appeared to move Eric’s knee to the correct angle. He offered someone’s jacket to pad the floor under his head.

“Like when Ewan died...” Tyler’s eyes beseeched Misha for unobtainable answers.

Misha ripped open Eric’s shirt. He placed his palm over the raven alpha’s leaping heart.

“Like Talon showed us.” Misha urged Tyler, who responded by stroking his hands over bare collar bones.

“Sandrina. Fin. Caitlin.” Ossian howled.

“Dallas,” Jensen yelped. 

Misha could not break away to comfort his friend. He had to give all his energy to Eric. Talon had emphasised how vital it was to keep skin to skin contact, hold Eric’s pulse point, speak loving words in his ear. Grounding Eric in this world would bring him back sooner and with fewer after effects.

Jared’s anguished call of his mate’s name tore at Misha’s heart. He couldn’t imagine how terrible it must be to wonder if little Dallas’s life had been lost, or for Ossian, isolated from his family, tormented by not knowing if he had lost his beloved Sandy or one of their kittens. Both Ossian and Jared were penned into their seats.

It would do no good, and reveal secret Raven Lore, to call out to his fellow Haveners, offer a morsel of cold comfort that if a member of their pride-pack had died, then it could have occurred on Tiree.

Using his body to form a shelter over Eric, he whispered words of love and hope into his far ear. With his fingers he chased tangles from his beloved’s hair, tucking stray strands behind his ear. 

Tyler moved to lay his head on Eric’s tummy and hummed his self-composed lullaby tune that had comforted their daughters in their early years or when they were poorly.

Over their heads, Paul Blackthorne continued his diatribe at those who would tell him what to do. He spouted evil malicious words, advocating the supremacy of pureblood families, modelled on his reign in the north.

“We should take a vote.” Fredric’s voice sounded. “Wiltshire supports Piseagard’s stance on Pride Independence and Pureblood Supremacy.”

If Eric was awake, he would have torn Fredric a new one for usurping Kath in her absence. Misha ripped his focus from his downed mate to assess their situation. There was anger, tension, and worry in the room, but nobody stood against the proposal. Piseagard cats bent their heads to their Pride Alpha’s will. Bile rose in his throat. 

All he had put his mind through, his family through, in the past couple of months, all his effort, the strain, his pain and his truth, had he only made things worse?

“You can’t do this.” Misha spat.

“Shut up, Doll.” Kurt kicked at Eric’s calf as he walked by on his way to the top table. “You’ve caused enough trouble.”

Misha hissed. He could feel his eyes turn into feline slits. His cat claws itched under his human fingertips. He crouched lower over Eric, protecting him. “Don’t you touch him.”

Kurt laughed a sniggering dirty sound.

“Jared is going to kill you.” Jensen’s threat was made through clenched teeth. His hands balled into fists, craving the opportunity to fight his way to his baby girl.

Ignoring the mini-drama playing out below him, Alpha Blackthorne half-turned to Marches’ Pride Alpha, “Can we call a quorum? Lorekeeper Curtis?” 

“I believe so. Baan are absent, as are Wiltshire’s alpha, Manx’s third and Broads’ second. Our numbers are sufficient for law with two thirds agreement.” Curtis preened at being asked.

Tyler fumed under his breath, “Looks like Marches got a promise on funding.”

“What are we voting on?” The older Manx Pride Alpha asked, scratching his white moustache. “What is the proposal? When is the debate?”

“There is no debate, only decision.” Blackthorne shot back. “Dissenters will be noted and dealt with. Who would speak against the glorious continuance of our bloodlines? Who would disagree with keeping our feline prides strong?”

“And how will you do that? By violence, fear and subjugation?” Jared challenged.

“By rule of law. By obedience and hard work. By guiding our new generations onward.” Blackthorne snarled. “I propose Haven be excluded. Only Prides may vote. A show of hands?”

Fredric and Curtis raised theirs. When Blackthorne coughed, Broads Alpha Omundson raised his, but kept his head lowered. Slowly the elderly Manx alpha also lifted his liver spotted hand. 

“Overgrown bullying. You call yourself alphas.” Jared sneered, but Misha could see his friend was a boiling mix of tension. “Alpha Omundson what is wrong with you? You believe in equality, in justice.”

Only Deptford did not comply with the forced vote. Immediately Andy Staite and Kurt Fuller moved closer to Rehka, Taylor and Lucien’s chairs.

“My vision for the glorious future of our species is in the image of my pride.” Alpha Blackthorne opened his palms like a politician campaigning for office.

A coughing choking noise from Eric drew Misha’s attention back to his mate. He beseeched Tyler, “Is he coming round?” 

“Eric. My Tiger. Eric. We’re here.” Tyler’s voice sounded small and tremulous.

“We are, our Tiger, our Raven.” Misha pressed tiny caresses to his alpha’s cheek. “Come back to us, Eric, we need you.”

Tyler sniffled. Misha’s chest tightened. “Please, Darling. Please, Eric.”

With a shockingly violent reanimating breath, Eric’s chest expanded. His eyes, fully black and raven, shot open. Without words he grabbed each of his mates, using their arms to pull his body into a sitting position. 

A wave of relief flowed over Misha. He bent his head to press his forehead against his alpha-mate’s brow.

“Eric.” He breathed.

“Gone,” Eric’s voice broke. His eyes sought Misha and Tyler. Incoherent, he mumbled, “Ripped.”

“Shush, shush,” Misha soothed, rubbing Eric’s back, feeling Tyler try to encompass both of them in his stretched arms. 

Thunderous crashing on the entry doors, with ear-splitting Alpha hollers for the observers to be granted entry under Moot Law, only grazed the periphery of Misha’s awareness. Eric raised his palm to his forehead, letting it take the weight of his head. Misha understood his mate could be experiencing the migraine to beat all migraines. Misha’s energy remained on his recovering traumatised alpha and worrying about whose death had downed him.

“Curtis?” Alpha Blackthorne huffed in frustration. “What is our position?”

Squirming in his seat, the low sized Marches Alpha clicked his tongue. “I’m afraid, now that they have declared their arrival, we must admit Alpha Logue and Professor Jones.”

With puff of annoyance, Alpha Blackthorne waved his hand at those guarding the exit. “Admit them.”

Hair pulled from her ponytail and her jacket pulled sideways, one of the Broads betas who had helped set up the craft fair entered the room. Her eyes were wide with shock but she mustered her spirit and spoke her duty out loud and clear.

“Observer Alpha Alaina Huffman of the Fox Authority.”

Fredric nearly choked on a sip of water as a tall imposing flame-haired fox in a leather jacket and form-fitting jeans over Doc Martins marched into the room, straight for the empty space in front of the podium. 

“And,” the Broads beta cleared her throat, “President of the Wolf Council, Lord Richings, Alpha Stephen Amell.”

Stephen’s entry was slower and more deliberate, favouring his good leg, dressed in a charcoal designer suit and shirt, the silver wolf’s head pin on his black tie glinted in the light.

Misha’s heart leapt seeing their old friend, knowing other were-creatures had not abandoned the cats to be architects of their own descent into chaos. A gulping sob from behind their position on the floor told him that Jensen was overcome.

Racing in before the doors closed, Alpha Matthew Davies joined the new, and by the absolutely shell-shocked expression of certain werecats, totally unexpected replacement observers.

The police inspector spoke first. 

“Alpha Omundson,” Mattie projected his voice for all present, “Your daughter is safe. Annalisa was released from Piseagard’s rooms when they were challenged by members of your own Pride.”

“Broads.” Tim slapped his heart with his fist in admiration for his cats, who had rescued his beloved Annalisa. “Piseagard have defiled the Moot and if they have drawn my daughter’s blood they have declared war on The Broads Pride.”

The bearded alpha yowled with Alpha Tom Cat battle force.

With their host’s turncoat behaviour explained Misha could allow an ounce of sympathy for the tall older alpha. 

The elderly Manx alpha intervened as a voice of reason, “No one here wants another inter-pride war.”

“If a hair on my Annalisa’s head is harmed, Broads’ opinion may differ.” Tim warned.

“Your daughter is unharmed.” Matthew Davies assured before continuing in a grave tone. “My team and reasonable rational helpers have regained control. However we have five dead, including a kitten trampled in the pandemonium.”

“No,” Jensen squawked, at the same time as Ossian’s hand hit the table.

Misha held his breath. 

The news of fatalities on top of the appearance of the newcomers took the wind out of the Pureblood Supremacists' sails. In the wake of the blond detective’s revelations there was little satisfaction in seeing Paul Blackthorne and his supporters floundering to recover.

“Do you know who is gone? Names? From where?” Jared could barely string a coherent question together. Misha could not bear to imagine dear little Dallas or his nephew...

“Baan, Piseagard, Wiltshire, and Deptford,” Davies addressed Jared, “We are holding names until we inform their families. I acknowledge that each Alpha is entitled to declare war to revenge their losses but do we seriously want to plunge this country into a werecat civil war? The humans would never stand idly by.”

Ignoring the latter plea to the council, Tyler piped up to clarify, “Not Haven?”

Davies shook his head. 

“What happened?” Misha spoke in a hush to his omega mate. He drew his brows together in confusion. Could, by co-incidence, some accident have happened back on Tiree. His heart clenched. Were Janette and Amelie alright?

Eric remained woozy and weak, leaning against Misha’s side. “I’m sorry, my loves, I don’t know who.... a terrible terrible death.”

As Eric’s voice broke, Tyler and Misha pulled him in tighter, understanding the limits of their raven’s curse or blessing.

“This makes no difference. We have called a vote.” Fredric stood, his eyes flashing yellow with rage at their plans frustrated.

“A vote on what?” Alaina demanded. “What proposal? What course of action?”

“Recognition of Pureblood Supremacy,” Fredric’s lips curled, looking down at the powerful fox alpha as if she was inferior.

The red-haired alpha scoffed, “What an unnecessary ballot! You claw your tiny newborn kits’ faces, deforming them for life, just to show who’s more inbred than who. Then you take wonderful young men and women at the prime of their lives and exile or force them into infertility.”

“Alpha Huffman, show respect.” Rehka spoke up. “Deptford is known for its tolerance and openness. We do not subscribe to Blackthorne and Lehne’s plans to throw our society into a dark age of repression and isolationism. However we reserve the right to run our prides as we see fit. I believe a fox that mates a human can never come back to their pack.”

“The observers should be silent.” Donald Blackthorne demanded. “They are not contributors.”

“Why don’t we allow all these fine people to leave the room? Go find their families? Then Alaina and I can sit in on the top table’s discussion?” Stephen asked calmly. 

To those who did not know the Wolf Alpha, they perceived a peacemaker. The way Tyler stiffened, combined with Misha’s own memories, told them that Stephen was using his dangerously icy voice.

“No.” Paul Blackthorne smacked his hand down. “They will witness our ascendancy.”

Stephen glowered. “You will let Jensen Padalecki exit this room to tend to his daughter.”

“She’s alive.” Jensen gushed in a sigh of pure relief, matched by Jared’s simultaneous thanking of the gods.

“I will do no such thing.” Blackthorne did his best to stare down the Richings Alpha.

“As President of the Wolf Council I demand safe passage for Jensen.” Stephen growled, “Wolf-hybrid Dallas Aneta Ackles-Padalecki and her omega mother are under our protection. Now. Or face the wrath of the Wolf Packs.”

As if it physically pained him, Blackthorn nodded.

Jensen stood on shaking legs, but he did not go for the door. Instead he stood directly behind Stephen, hand on the alpha’s hip. 

“I can’t leave Jay.” Jensen whispered apologetically.

Misha nodded his understanding when Jensen beseechingly looked their way. His omega friend must be pulled both ways, but with Dallas safe outside, Jensen could not be apart from Jared where danger remained. Stephen seemed satisfied to protect Jensen by shielding him from the council with his body.

Alaina’s patience with the assembled Prides was evidently short. She leaned forward , in front of Blackthorne’s place, her demeanour telling of an alpha who was used to being obeyed without question.

“The Fox Authority are disappointed that Feline-kind cannot practice peace, fraternity and equality. We do understand your pureblood law,” She conceded with a head tilt. “Fox-kind do not want to fade out of existence. We do not want a melting pot of hybridism. Haven has its place for those who chose an alternative mating, but we and other were-species agree that our packs should persist. A future where we all evolve into were-creatures is a nightmare scenario. We want Fox kits who grow up to mate Fox. But this pureblood nonsense is becoming extremism. Forced matings? Kidnapping? Bloodshed? Lives lost? Forced gelding? Using the gelded, who are still werecats but not pure enough for you all, as slaves for your prides?”

“We don’t do that.” Alpha Taylor Cole protested.

“Neither do we,” Manx’s Second added. “Our gelded members have full rights if they chose to go through the procedure and stay with us.”

“We cannot change your culture. More’s the pity.” Stephen huffed. “Shake the scales from your eyes. Look at Piseagard. Look at his people, the conditions they live under. Do you want this for your prides? Your families?”

Murmurings came from the assembled werecats.

“Do you want to be told who to mate? To institute the practice of lesser third mates? To have no say in the job you hold? Where you can go? Who you can love?” Stephen’s gaze swept across the room.

“Wolf Packs are not democracies.” Alpha Blackthorne challenged.

“No, they are not.” Stephen inclined his head, warming to his subject he explained. “My word is law. But that word is informed by my advisors, my people, and my mate. My wolves are free to leave and return to Richings. If they wish to mate a lynx, a fox, a human, a cat, then I will welcome their beloved into our family. Those who raise their voices against me, and there are counter arguments a plenty, not least from my cousins, are not forced out, threatened, or silenced forever.”

Just then Colin O’Donoghue, the Baan Second, burst through the doors. His jacket gone, blood stained his white shirt, while a bruise purpled on his scarred cheek. “Alpha Carlyle is dead.”

Rehka covered her mouth in shock. Tim rose to his feet. “Isn’t this enough? A Pride Alpha is lost.”

“Last night was the Great Moot Run,” Jared rolled his shoulders, “Running in friendship and celebration of our nature. Today death ran through this prideland. Can you not see that this is what Blackthorne offers?”

Misha’s chest swelled in admiration for Jared. Alaina Huffman echoed the Haven alpha’s call, telling them all to “Wake up.”

“Perhaps we should pause for reflection and to remember Alpha Carlyle.” Curtis suggested.

“Remember him?” Colin snarled. “His bereft omega is picking broken glass from the conservatory windows out of his body. Who pays for this?”

“We all do.” Alpha Omundson answered. “No more bloodshed. Come take Baan’s seat, Alpha O’Donoghue. Stand with us in unity.”

Colin scratched his jaw, took a moment and then followed Broads suggestion, bowing his head in respect before taking his deceased Pride Alpha’s chair.

Through the open double doors a few people trickled in, finding their friends and family. 

Sandy entered gingerly, making her way round to Ossian and collapsing into his arms. 

“I got your message. We made it inside, to the kitchens.” She soothed her mate between caresses. “The kittens are there now with other little ones. The teen stewards are sharing out tonight’s desserts with them. Maxim and Dallas have taken a shine to a young omega, Blake Johnston from Marches.”

“See,” Tyler knocked his knuckles against Eric’s back and the arm Misha had around his alpha’s body. He whispered, “Johnston blood - the purist and nicest there is.”

Rolling his eyes and choking a laugh at the not very funny joke attempt, Misha tried a weak reprimand, “Petal, stop!”

They were distracted by the more dramatic entry of Annalisa Omundson. She flew through all the alphas and dignitaries throwing her arms around her father. 

“Papa.”

Tim ran his hands up and down her arms, checking her for injuries with wet eyes.

Following her in, came Eric’s old friend, Alpha Adrian from Wiltshire. He bowed to Tim. “I am ashamed to say that a member of my pride lured your daughter to where Piseagard members ambushed her.”

“I’m okay, Papa,” Annalisa laid her head on her father’s shoulder. “Alpha Fredric’s son said my help was needed, but they put a bag over my head and bundled me into a room. They wouldn’t let me go, but Franco and Gretta found me.”

“This Moot is a shambles.” Alaina declared. She stepped forward, pressing her palms onto the table directly in front of the Blackthorne brothers. “You cannot conduct yourselves like this. It is a disgrace to all weres. Fox-kind will not stand for it.”

Stephen’s alpha voice rang out. “The Wolf Council will not stand for it.”

“Haven won’t stand for it.” Jared and Ossian said together. 

From his place between his mates, Eric called, “Hear hear.”

“Baan will not stand for this.” Colin said firmly.

“Deptford will not.” Rehka declared.

“I suppose,” Curtis whined, “that Marches won’t.”

Many chairs scraped the floor as attendees stood.

Misha twisted his neck. His sister’s first mate had risen. Old Alpha Staite used the shoulder of his daughter-in-law, Jewel, to help him up. Beta Stanistreet from Manx was next to Tyler’s brother, Parker. Erica held Kennedy’s hand. At the rear one of Sandy’s McCoy cousins, an older unmated beta rose to her feet and in one move ripped off her Piseagard tartan armband. Calvin moved away from their pride’s alpha trio to cut off Kurt and Julie from leaving the room.

Peter spoke. “We won’t stand for this any longer.”

“After all I’ve done for you!” Paul Blackthorne raged. “This is the thanks?”

“I have nothing to thank you for.” Calvin stated in monotone.

“Things are going to change.” Peter affirmed. 

“Are you challenging me? A beta?” Blackthorne scoffed. 

A Piseagard alpha, just out of his teens, who Misha could not place, yelled from the back row, “Beta Peter speaks for many of us. Things will change.”

“Will they really?” Tyler worried under his breath.

“I hope so,” Misha prayed. “Paul, Donald, Kurt... the inner circle is small in number, if everyone else sticks together...”

“Hey, Tyler,” Stephen bent to exchange cheek kisses with the little omega. He and Jensen had stepped aside as the top table began to discuss practical support for change at Piseagard. “How is Eric?”

“’M good.” Eric muttered unconvincingly.

“Alpha Davies would like a word. What do you say, Misha?” Stephen asked.

With a quirked smile at being considered temporarily the most senior and compos mentis member of their mating union, Misha agreed. Stephen and he assisted Eric to unsteady feet. 

“Ouf,” Misha puffed, “Geez Tiger, you weigh a ton. No more cakes for you.”

“It’s all muscle.” Eric attempted a grin with his mostly true reply.

They made it to the corner beyond the podium. Beside them Adrian poked Fredric Lehne in the chest and fired hissed questions. Instead of replying the traitorous alpha mockingly zipped his lips and folded his arms. Their glaring match was interrupted when Mattie cleared his throat.

“Beta Misha ...” Alpha Davies said gravely.

His heart clenched, Misha blurted, “It’s Zlata, isn’t it? My sister is dead?”


	10. Fallen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter but I am away from home for the next couple of weeks and wanted to post an update before I go.

Matthew Davies reached out to grip Misha’s arm above his wrist.

Believing he knew what was coming, Misha steeled his nerve and waited for confirmation to hit.

“At 3.15PM I was called by Officer Wilson to negotiate at a scene on the north riverbank. An injured omega was hiding in a disused boat shed. We persuaded her it was safe to emerge and once I had taken her evidence I asked Wilson to accompany her to the hospital in Norwich.”

Misha knitted his brow, unsure where this story was headed. How did this pertain to them or to Zlata?

“Jane McIntyre was a close confidant of your sister.” Mattie continued.

“Jane,” Misha nodded in memory of a four foot high bustling omega mated to a cousin of Peter, Zlata’s first mate. One lonely childhood summer, with Jared in Poland, Misha had been delighted with Jane’s gift of a punnet of juicy sweet strawberries for his birthday.

“Suspected for aiding Zlata’s flight, Jane was subject to Donald Blackthorne’s interrogation.” The severity of that interrogation was betrayed by the slightest wince on the long experienced police detective’s face.

“Can you arrest him?” Eric seethed, throwing a look towards the top table. 

“She won’t press charges,” Mattie shook his head. “Misha, Jane says Zlata’s escape was long planned. They hoped to leave Maxim with a sympathetic Broads family who might take him in, but when Zlata saw you her plans changed.”

“Where is she?” Misha gushed.

“Jane says that Zlata stole Calvin’s wallet and walked into Catfield to get the first bus to Norwich and then a train to London but didn’t tell Jane any more than that so they couldn’t force her to divulge, but Jane also says that Zlata is not coming back.”

Misha swallowed hard and licked his lips. There was a switch from his weight supporting Eric, to Tiger’s arm holding him up. He closed his eyes and assessed his tossed feelings. Deep down, in a place his mind had shied away from, all day there had lingered a suspicion that his sister had met her end, at her own hand or that of others. Behind that curtain his base feelings had been laced with regret that two panicked meetings after so many years would be the last chance for any reconciliation between the siblings. It was sad that Zlata knew him so little, had underestimated how he could have tried to help her and Maxim, and instead had cut all ties with her previous life. How desperate must she have been to choose leaving her child behind and fleeing during the night.

Misha puffed a breath. He met Mattie’s sympathetic eyes. “She is gone and left her little son.”

“We will file a missing persons report.” Mattie explained calmly, “She may not wish to be found, or she may contact one of Lord Richings’ shelters for homeless werekind. Based on gathered evidence if Zlata does surface, we will not repatriate her to Piseagard. She will be helped to start a new life.”

Misha nodded. With family to shelter Maxim, Zlata ran for her life. He sincerely hoped that she had not run to end it all. A chill sadness descended. He was not distraught with grief. Any loss had been felt a long time ago. The regret that pulled on Misha’s core was more about not having a chance to build a mature relationship and about how his nephew might grow up motherless.

“Is there anything we can do?” Tyler asked both Misha and the Detective Inspector.

“Let me know if Zlata contacts Haven, or if you have any suggestions of where she headed. Her Alpha will be questioned but I doubt we’ll get any leads there.” Mattie paused, removing his hand to run it through his hair. 

“We were never close,” Misha confessed, “And after so many years, I have no idea if Zlata had friends outside Piseagard.”

The main priority now was Maxim’s future and ensuring he would not be returned to Calvin’s care. Misha ventured, “Can I ask about Maxim’s situation? Until Zlata is found? If she never is found?”

Matthew sucked in his lips. “I understand, and I would advise you to speak to the Moot Council. Later I can give you the benefit of my knowledge if you need it on the little guy’s behalf.” He puffed a short breath. “Alpha Worthy is waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs.”

“For us?” Misha furrowed his brow.

“I called you aside for a grave duty. There is no easy way to say this, but I am sorry to tell you, Eric...”

Misha’s jaw dropped. Eric went stock still. Tyler let a soft bleat as their thoughts raced ahead.

“... your mother was stabbed during the skirmishing.”

“What?” Eric’s chest rose and fell erratically. “Is she?”

“I’m so sorry, Alpha Pellegrino, but she was killed.”

With an indescribable guttural howl of sorrow and shock, Eric jumped back causing Misha and Tyler to stumble. They trailed him as he ran from the room, ignoring anyone who tried to halt him. Tyler scooped up a few black feathers that fell in his wake.

Thoughts raced through Misha’s brain. He needed to find Maxim before Calvin searched for him. He feared for their safety if the aftermath of the day’s deaths spilled into more violence. But his immediate concern was to comfort and care for his bereaved mate. So focused on the cause of Eric’s collapse being the death of a Haven member, he had not imagined a loss so close to his beloved alpha. 

Eric’s feet barely touched the stairs as he hit every third step on the way down. People stumbled against banisters and walls to stay out of his way. Tyler choked a sob, lagging behind their distressed mate. Misha extended his arm back for Tyler to grab his hand. To the left of the final step, Alpha Rick Worthy stood sentinel. A curtain had been torn down to cover Kath’s body.

Eric dropped to his knees, ripping the material away.

Alpha Worthy offered sympathies, spoke of the deceased Wiltshire Alpha’s bravery when cornered, and requested they not disturb her until Davies’ team had finished. But Eric did not hear or chose not to listen. He keened with the length of his throat exposed, before collapsing over his mother, lifting her by the shoulders and plaintively calling.

“Mum, Mum. You can’t be.” He buried his head in the crook of her neck, as if trying to draw her vital scent into his lungs for a final time.

Blood pooled under the downed alpha’s body. From the front her wounds looked grave with red blooming on her blouse and a trickle from her lips staining her face. She looked like she could have been saved, but when Eric cradled her Misha could see terrible gouges had sliced lungs and arteries.

“She’s gone, Darling,” he spoke tenderly, stroking Eric’s arm. 

Rick Worthy cleared his throat. He spoke kindly, “You are her next of kin, Alpha Eric, but would you like me to contact your father?”

At mention of Mark, Eric’s tear streaked face looked up. He gulped, “We knew... Dad knew... told me... Grandtata too.... we outlive,” He wailed, “We outlive our... In thirty years... not now... not now... Mum...”

Misha tried to swamp his larger alpha’s body with as much of a swaddling hug as he could. Tyler was on his knees beside them. Their omega mate proved his diamond strength inner core.

“Wiltshire will want to pay tribute.” Tyler said to Alpha Worthy.

“I will arrange a room with Alpha Omundson.”

“Our phones are still in the council room.” Tyler continued in a controlled voice, “May I borrow yours, Alpha?”

“Of course, my dear omega.” The dignitary handed it over immediately.

Misha stiffened his hold on Eric’s shoulders. Their alpha mate shook with silent weeping, but Misha could tell that Tyler had a piece of his attention too.

Expelling a long breath as he waited for his call to connect, Tyler reached with his free hand to hold on to a corner of Misha’s shirt. 

“Janey, hey sweetie, it’s me,” Tyler’s voice trembled.

Misha bit down on his bottom lip. He would give anything to wind the clock back and spend this weekend at home with their girls.

“That must have been scary for you and Amelie. Can he come to the phone? Is he OK?” Tyler’s eyes widened trying to communicate something to Misha. “That’s alright, sweetie, put Jake on first so.”

“Are they OK?” Eric wheezed.

Tyler nodded, “Your Dad collapsed. Not a seizure but he blacked out. Arden got very upset, but the girls ran and got Jake and Damson. They had gone over to the stitchery to parcel up the craft shop order.” 

Jake’s distant voice came from the handset. 

“Jake,” Tyler closed his eyes, “Eric’s Mum....”

The little omega nodded his head, gushing a quick, “Thank you, we will be, we have each other.”

He handed the phone to Eric, who fumbled to take it, his fingers slippery with Kath’s blood. “Your Dad.”

With inconsolable sobs, as if a dam had broken, Eric listened to his father offer comfort. 

Misha gave Eric room to sit back on his heels and speak to Mark. Drawing Tyler into a tight cuddle he whispered into his ear, “You are a wonder, my love, my dear wonderful Tyler.”

“We’ll be here for Tiger,” Tyler meeped, “And for Maxim too.”

“For each other.” Misha affirmed swallowing around the enormous lump in his throat. Looking up, he could see people approaching tentatively. Alpha Adrian and other Wiltshire members, both young and old, kept a respectful distance. They dropped to one knee, many bowing their heads.

Jared, with Jensen tucked under his arm, took position on the bottom step of the stairs. Sympathy bled from the eyes of Misha’s oldest friend. Jensen lifted his hand, pressing his fingers to his lips. Wriggling movement in his kitten sling preceded Dallas’s little head popping out, before Maxim’s bright blue eyes peeped over the hem. 

“I want to go home.” Eric choked as he handed the phone back to Alpha Worthy.

“You may use my ‘copter,” Stephen offered, as he approached. “Alaina and I’ll stay until the official Moot closure.”

“We can return or travel to Wiltshire for your Mother’s ceremonies.”

“I want...” His voice trailing away, Eric’s gaze swam with loss. 

Tyler and Misha swamped their mate, trying to full encompass his body.

“Whatever you want, Tiger,” Misha vowed.

“We can go home to our girls.” Tyler promised.

“To our nest?” Eric said in the form of a vulnerable question.

“You can have Guffy.” Jensen offered with a watery smile, which lifted them into bittersweet mirroring smiles.

“And Dam will bring his bunny to the mix,” Jared chipped in, “and your little brother has those special Arden-cuddle powers too.”

Tyler hummed with gentle mischief, “If Maxie is coming home with us, we might need Mr Guffy for an extended stay.”

“He never gives up, does he?” Stephen chuckled softly.

“No,” Misha bumped Tyler’s shoulder with admiration born of a deeper meaning to the Richings’ Alpha’s words. “He never does.”

“My family,” Eric buried his head in Misha’s chest. 

Stroking his mate’s hair, Misha’s jaw dropped. Edging around the mourning Wiltshire cats, came Erica holding Kennedy’s hand with Leo trailing behind.

“Is there anything we can do?” Erica asked.

“We want to help, Dm...Misha,” Leo urged.

Kennedy said nothing. A tremble in the young omega’s body told Misha that this teenage girl could be afraid of his reaction. 

Tyler pulled Eric closer, so the alpha could lean more of his weight on his shoulder.

Kennedy turned her face, the light catching her scars, and Misha could see the little girl who often sheltered her younger siblings from their father’s wrath. Sometimes to achieve that a lie would pass her lips – “Doll did it.” Blinking again, he could see the mate-able young woman before him, a girl who had been younger than Janette and Amelie’s current age when Misha escaped.

Under his stare she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Very sorry,” Leo added, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“Then I forgive you,” Misha said, feeling like an angel gracing them with absolution, “And if you could find a glass of water for Eric, that would be appreciated.”

The three teenage Piseagard cats bolted for the kitchen to complete the simple mission.

“You did good,” Jared patted his shoulder.

“There are more important things than holding grudges.” Misha shrugged.

“Like those we love,” Tyler chipped in, straining his body to plant a sweet kiss to Misha’s cheek.


	11. From Chaos Rises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. My muse went on vacation too.

“You killed my mother. You worm. You utter piece of shit. I should have killed you for raping my mate.”

Stunned silence greeted the roared accusation.

Eric had flung back the double entry doors to the council room so violently that they clattered against the plasterwork. 

In a wedge formation Misha, Tyler, their supporting Haveners, Stephen, and at least half of Wiltshire’s Moot attendees followed. They spilled into the room, filling vacated seats and blocking the exit to any of Fredric’s cohorts who might try to flee.

At the table, Colin O’Donoghue’s eyes bled sympathies. Curtis looked fascinated as if a good movie had started. Alaina’s lips parted in surprise. Tim, Rehka, and the Manx Alpha seemed suspended in shock, while Paul Blackthorne looked down his nose at the interruption.

“Eric has our support.” Jared stepped up, sweeping his hand in a gesture of solidarity encompassing all those who had joined Eric’s march back to the council room.

Fredric’s face flushed an angry red. He tried to play it cool, shrugging his shoulders, “Acts of war.” 

Eric trembled with contained anger. Misha feared he would access his feline ancestry and pounce across the long to table to strangle the loathsome alpha. Misha wanted to make Fredric pay. He wanted to rip into him for causing his mate, both his mates, pain and sorrow. He wanted to spill blood, to catch the alpha cat’s soft throat flesh in his canines and slice through fur and skin and flesh. An angry hot trickle of saltiness wound down his cheek as he made to effort to squeeze and compress his inner call for vengeance, hoping Eric could control his rage too.

“And how,” Fredric continued, making a depreciating flick with his hand, “could I kill dearest Kath? I was at council. I was about to come to pay my respects as my first act as Pride Alpha.”

There was a collective intake of breath. Notably Fredric had not claimed to be Acting Pride Alpha or Pride Alpha in waiting. Although as Kath’s Second, he was automatically in the caretaker role, to presume he would rise unchallenged to the position was beyond presumptuous and to claim it before Kath’s funeral ceremony was bordering on sacrilegious.

“You are no pride alpha.” Eric bellowed above hushed whispers. His fingers clenched into talon curves, his eyes losing their blue for raven black.

Misha’s heart jack-hammered in his chest. He dared to raise his palm. He placed it gently on the curve of Eric’s shoulder blade, simply to maintain a touch connection, to ground his mate in their presence. Eric needed to vent, to rage against the injustice of losing his mother, to seek out those who conspired to kill her. Misha had no doubt that Fredric was responsible. The catch in his throat and the cloudy panic threatening his mind came from the slim chance that Eric might lose control, go too far and do something irredeemable.

“And are you?” Fredric threw his head back and laughed mockingly, “You think the esteemed cats of Wiltshire would be led by a raven.”

“No one objected when Mum and Dad took responsibility in the old Pride Alpha’s absences.” Eric shot back.

Fredric made a guttural snort. “A few days. A pride will put up with inferior caretakers when they know it is only temporary.”

Eric’s volume rose as he began to defend Mark’s and his mother’s honour, “My Dad...”

However he was interrupted brilliantly by Alpha Adrian who shouted clearly. “Like you, Alpha Lehne. The Pellegrinos back then spent a few days as caretakers, just as you have presumed to be until our inspirational Katharine is laid to rest.”

“Know your place, Adrian.” Fredric hissed. “Are you supporting this feathered mongrel?”

“I’d claw the scars from my face, if it could put me in the opposite camp to you and Piseagard’s monster alpha.” Adrian snarled. “Eric stood with us. He fought with us. He grew up with us. He is as Wiltshire as you and I.”

A tiny insecure whimper broke from Tyler, who ducked his head so that his brow rested against Misha’s back. Feeling behind with his free hand, Misha tenderly stroked Tyler’s arm. The beta was like the battery or energy conduit linking their triple union together. He hoped his gentle motions would communicate to Tyler how he understood emotions must be galloping through his wee beloved omega. Firstly Eric, in his righteous anger, exposed to the assembly Tyler’s traumatic history of the twins violent conception. Now their little mate’s heart was undoubtedly pounding in denial at the prospect of following their alpha to leave Haven and rule a distant pride. 

Misha expelled a long relieving sigh to steady his nerve. Eric was chockfull of wonderful admirable qualities. He was hardworking, kind to a fault, tender with his family, and always willing to offer cheer. However he was liable to speak ahead of his brain. He would speak without filter and could lodge his feet firmly in his mouth. Misha feared that if Eric got carried away they really would find themselves installed in the Wiltshire mansion as First Family.

“My Mother,” Eric choked, “wanted that for me. She asked many times that I return to Wiltshire, be her lieutenant, and be groomed to take the reins far into the future.” Dispelling the wisp of memory that had entered his voice, he fixed his stare on Alpha Lehne, “You, you robbed her of all those years. You took her life. Oh, you didn’t get her blood on your hands, but the stain is there. We all know it. You, Fredric, are responsible for her murder.”

“Ah, gentlemen, alphas, I think murder might be a strong accu...” Curtis piped up as Fredric rose from his seat, leaning over the table.

“No raven will rule over me.”

“No?” Eric drew his frame up to full height. “You are the lowest of the low. You do not deserve anything. You have the integrity of a flea.”

Fredric hissed, his eyes changing to yellow with feline slit pupils.

Eric bared his teeth. 

Rehka stood up, moving closer to the acting Wiltshire Alpha. She reached a hand to restrain or perhaps to stall his shift.

The air shimmered. Electric tingles of particles in motion danced on the palm of Misha’s hand. Then his fingers were lodged in the feathers of a nine foot raven. 

Eric’s head dipped diagonal, piercing Fredric with his stare. Talons reached sending the squirming alpha skittering back from his seat, pressing his back against the wall. 

Eric darted his head forward, lethal dagger sharp beak sweeping the air that Fredric had just vacated.

Misha stumbled forward, kicking through the shreds of Eric’s clothes.

“No, Eric, please don’t peck out his eyes.” 

“We should let him peck’em,” Tyler muttered, desiring but not truly meaning that to happen.

“Don’t, my love,” Misha pleaded. He slid his hand under the outer feathers of Eric’s flank, finding soft down and scratching affectionately with his fingernails. An intimate act, done in their nest, one that Tyler believed produced an impossible silent purr from their giant roosting alpha-mate. 

_I want to_ was the clear meaning of Eric’s plaintive caw.

With one corvine spitting hiss, the air cracked once more. Eric returned to human form, standing tall and straight. He cast a stern challenging glance across the whole room, paying special attention to Blackthorne’s posse.

“I, Alpha Eric Pellegrino, son and heir of Alpha Katharine, declare Alpha Fredric Lehne, culprit and conspirator in the murder of my mother, Wiltshire Pride Alpha. I demand trial by combat.”

“Wait. No way.” Fredric leapt to his feet. “This is unacceptable. He isn’t cat. He can’t challenge. Curtis, tell them?”

The Marches Alpha cleared his throat, “Actually, ahem, Eric was born in Wiltshire, and is next of kin to the deceased. He is entitled to justice.”

Fredric raged, “Fine, if this was ten years ago and he was still the punk mixed-blood teenage alpha living at the pride. He is not feline. His challenge is void.”

“You idiot, I’m not challenging for Pride Alpha,” Eric scoffed. “As werekind, as raven, I’m exercising my right and challenging you for justice.”

“This can’t be right,” Fredric flailed, “So a fox can battle a tiger, or a wolf can challenge a cat?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Jensen murmured. 

Tyler pressed his body against Misha. Eyes wide he met Misha’s concerned blue ones. The omega’s hushed words were barely audible, “He is scrambling. I waited so long to see him humiliated. Am I wrong to be taking a morsel of pleasure from this?”

“Not a bit,” Misha whispered, “I don’t want more bloodshed but it’s like long delayed karma.”

“And Tiger’d rip him into minced meat. Fredric knows he wouldn’t stand a chance.” Tyler chewed his lip, “But, Mish, I don’t want Eric to be injured.”

“Neither do I.” Misha whispered into Tyler’s ear. 

They looked up as their mate, glowing with righteous anger, boomed his voice across the assembly.

“One itty bitty cat against my raven form may be unfair in some eyes,” Eric called out with a marked smirk, “I am prepared to deal with an even hand. So in conjunction with Fredric, I challenge Alpha Paul Blackthorne, as prime conspirator in the death of my mother, to trial by combat, as is my right.”

“This is joke,” Blackthorne curled his lip. “I won’t participate in this farce.”

“You,” Eric pointed his finger at Misha’s old pride alpha, “I know it. You were the driving force in assassinating my mother. You knew that she was committed to equality, justice and modernisation. You are astute enough to figure out that she was the instigator of the plans to root out your corrupt and cruel regime in Piseagard. You feared her power and influence, and like the cowards that you and Fredric are, you conspired to stab her in the back.”

“I will never lower myself to engage in combat with another species.” Paul huffed.

“By capitulating you admit your guilt.” Tim took glee in saying. “Attacking Pride Alphas and their families might not have been your smartest move, Blackthorne.”

“I will not submit to this feathered freak.” Blackthorne’s pitch rose to a screech. “I will nominate a champion. Ask our esteemed observer with the gimp leg, he must have a champion for his pack battles.”

Stephen raised an eyebrow. With careful deliberation, and a slight fleeting smile of reassurance towards Tyler, Jensen and Misha, he stated, “In the case of a challenge to my rule, if I concluded that I should not abdicate, then my cousin and Third Alpha, Robbie Amell, is willing to fight in my stead. However, Alpha Blackthorne, in this specific instance, when Alpha Pellegrino has not challenged to take your rule of Piseagard, you may not nominate a champion. Historically it is not acceptable to do so when the duel is to vindicate your honour or avenge a murder. During the Regency, duels of this type amongst both lupine and feline communities never employed champions.”

“He speaks the truth,” Curtis licked his lips nervously under Blackthorne and Lehne’s glares, “You have been challenged as individuals not as Pride Alphas. However, ahem, there are, ahem, implications.”

“What implications besides facing off against a monstrous raven in our cat forms? You snivelling worm, spit it out.” Fredric turned on the fickle alpha who had been their ally earlier that day.

“Winning will quash all accusations. You would both be vindicated and never face these charges again.” Curtis gulped. “However now that the challenge has be laid, especially in the witness of the Moot Council, Fredric and Paul must face Eric as cats or capitulate. If they renege and submit to Eric’s truth, then there must be a show of unanimous support from their prides . A total, without dissent, belief that they have been unjustly accused or else, ahem, their positions as Pride Alphas are untenable.” 

“Wow,” Misha puffed almost silently. Tyler gripped his hand. 

Jared clapped Eric on his bare shoulder.

“Our Alpha entertained the Wiltshire Second Alpha in his rooms,” Erica Carroll shouted from the door.

“We were to monitor Katharine Pellegrino’s movements.” A burly Piseagard alpha with deep triple scars added.

Without shedding a drop of blood, Eric had effectively ousted Fredric Lehne from caretaking Wiltshire and, in one fell swoop, ended Paul Blackthorne’s long dark rule at Piseagard. Misha looked at his alpha mate taking the role of hero with both hands and running with it. It was rare for Eric to let out his Commanding-Alpha side but it was certainly there, this time drawn out by grief and vengeance. He sucked a breath, struck by the privilege of seeing this side of his mate, a side that maybe in future centuries would be used to fulfil Talon’s prophecies of a nest for Eric to lead.

“We can choose suicide by raven or step down?” Blackthorne cackled. “Is this some sort of wind up? I move that it is time for new rules on this tradition.”

Tim Omundsen, with a measure of joyous retribution for the actions against his daughter, spoke in his role as Moot host. “Alpha Blackthorne your position on maintaining of our traditions, of the old ways, has been noted in the minutes. In support of your earlier declared position, I move that we make no amendment of any sort to these ancient ways at this time.”

“Seconded.” Alphas O’Donoghue, Lavinscourt, Cole, Craig, and Padalecki called in unison as soon as Tim had finished, while others at the top table raised their arms in support.

“Agreed. That’s a quorum.” Curtis added immediately. “Motion passed.”

Shuffling in the crowd brought Eric’s old friend to stand in front of Broads Alpha. 

“I, Alpha Adrian McMorran, declare my intention to be Pride Alpha. Who would stand against me?” 

No one moved. Fredric’s face turned bright tomato red but he kept his lips sealed. Finally Eric took two long strides. Collectively there was an intake of breath. 

“Mother would be proud.” Eric clapped his old buddy on the shoulder. “You have my support, but you have a helluva job ahead of you to dig out what is rotten in your new pride.”

“I hope I am up to the challenge,” Adrian ducked his head, as if he was the one submitting to a new Pride Alpha. There were some whoops and claps from the other Wiltshire cats in the room, but no great outbreak of joy in the aftermath of losing Kath.

Eric smiled softly, “Head high, my friend. You never shirked a challenge when we were kittens, and you’ve also got a lot of good people and willing helpers at Wiltshire and outside.”

“Congratulations, Alpha.” Tim reached across to shake Adrian’s hand. 

“It is a time of mourning.” Adrian said gravely. “Wiltshire will take its time to recover from this blow.”

“Well, this is all very momentous,” Alpha Blackthorne pulled back his chair, “My party will be leaving the council now.”

“No.” Jared firmly insisted.

Blackthorne huffed. “You gonna stop me, Padalecki?”

“The future of Piseagard needs to be addressed.”

“And I believe we have a battle to commence.” Eric added.

“I am not fighting you.” Blackthorne snapped.

“Neither am I.” Fredric chipped in, but a stutter in his speech betrayed how astonished he was that Adrian had just claimed the pride. 

Misha twisted his lip in bittersweet pleasure, watching Lehne and Blackthorne scramble. Fredric would not fight Eric and now it seemed in the face of Adrian’s well received declaration, the older alpha had no intention of risking injury or death by fighting the younger McMorran alpha for the pride.

“Good. Neatly sorted.” Alaina Huffman propped her boots onto the end of the council table and crossed her legs. “I must complement you werecats on the rapidity of your transitions.”

“What?” Blackthorne blinked.

“As former pride alpha perhaps you would take a seat in the crowd.” Rehka said to the deposed Piseagard ruler, pointing to a spare seat at the edge of the fourth row.

“My pride supports me.” Blackthorne blustered. “They know I can make Piseagard great. My legacy will be legendary. I am their beloved leader.”

However several of his pride inched away from him. His brother, pale faced and stunned, slipped down the side aisle. Kennedy and Leo blocked their parents from sneaking round the back. 

“You are not.”

“No.”

“It’s time for change.”

“Step down.”

“No integrity to fight the raven. No integrity to lead.” Old Alpha Staite’s voice joined the hecklers.

“And who would rule in my stead?” Paul Blackthorne scoffed with a bark of laughter. “There is none of you alpha enough to lead.”

“I’ll do it.” 

All heads turned to young teenage Erica Carroll.

Jared’s jaw dropped just as Misha left his own bottom lip fall.

Erica cleared her throat. “I... I might need some help... but I, Alpha Erica Carroll, declare my intention to be Piseagard Pride Alpha.”

“You?” Blackthorne huffed, “You’re just a girl.”

Erica tossed her head and raised her chin.

“I’ll help. If she’ll have me I’ll be her Second or Third.” The deeply scarred alpha from earlier spoke.

“If we might have a council in the Pride, like I hear Lord Richings keeps in his Wolf Pack, then I would be happy to give Alpha Erica the benefit of any wisdom I may have.” Alpha Staite volunteered.

“I would like a seat there too.” Zlata’s ex-mate Peter ducked his head submissively towards the dark haired teen. “If you can see in your mercy that we, me and Rachel, might remain at Piseagard.”

Misha noticed his crush from so very long ago. Blackthorne’s daughter Rachel was seated behind her standing beta-mate, tense and anxious, yet clearly supporting Peter rather than her father.

“If Ty released us, then I would love to show Jensen and our children where I grew up,” Jared added, with a gaze that spoke of astounded admiration, “Perhaps we can bring some of Haven’s ways to Perthshire.”

“If you want some Richings’ hints and tips, I have a mate who would simply trill with excitement at getting to see inside the Cat Pride only miles from his home place of Crieff.” Stephen jumped in.

“Alpha Carroll, I think every Pride at this table would be willing to volunteer time, people, and assistance to your new rule.” Alpha Omundsen grinned.

“Thank you.” Erica looked overwhelmed but strong and steady in her amazement. She extended her left hand. Out of the crowd, Kennedy Fuller came to take it. She turned slightly to see her friend, “Kennedy, how do you think the omegas of the pride will receive this change?”

Kennedy cast a quick look over the few omega mates present. “I think we’ll be very happy.”

“And if your parents have to leave, would you and Leo stay? Make a home with me in the Alpha House? Accept Pride aid to help raise your younger siblings?”

Kennedy tittered shyly, “Erica, is this your way of proposing to me?”

“And if it is my promise?” 

“Then it is my yes.”

“Oh Palu,” Tyler sniffled. “This is beautiful.”

“Luna bless them,” Jensen bit his lip.

Misha wiped tears away with the back of his hand.

“Excuse me.” Blackthorne growled. “I have not been ousted.”

“I believe you have.” Rehka Sharma called.

“Erica must fight my champion if she wants Piseagard.” He raged.

“What champion?” Calvin growled from his spot against the wall. “I lost my mate and my step-son today. I will not fight for you, Alpha.”

“No fight is necessary.” Donald Blackthorne said with great reluctance. “We don’t have their support, Paul. We need to make a tactical retreat and rebuild our campaign.”

“Fool,” the older Blackthorne spat at his brother, “We give in now, there will be no going back.”

“There is no going back.” The deeply scarred alpha yelled. “Erica is Pride Alpha.”

Erica knocked her knuckles against the wooden surface of the council table. The room fell silent. “I dislike that my first act would be to deal with darkness.”

“Your first act was taking an intended mate.” Leo called towards her and his sister. Kennedy leaned closer to Erica.

“Yes it was, Leo. Thank you.” She swallowed hard. “I bar the gate. I close the door. I will not admit to Piseagard the exiles Alpha Paul Blackthorne, Alpha Donald Blackthorne, Alpha Kurt Fuller, Omega Julie Fuller, and Alpha Harry Fort.”

“You cannot. All our belongings are at the Pride.” Blackthorne’s old Third, Harry, protested.

“Arrangements will be made through the council to send recompense or personal belongings. I trust the council to mediate with the Fullers’ children’s situation, and I recognise that the mating of Calvin and Zlata was forced and thus I declare Maxim to be Alpha Maxim Collins and commend him to his Uncle Misha’s care.” Erica’s shoulders sagged. Kennedy placed a hand on the slumped curve. “Enough momentous decisions. I trust my pride to ensure they are honoured, and I beg release of the Moot Council to take my people home.”

“Most readily granted.” Alpha Omundsen leaned over to shake Erica’s smaller hand. “Welcome to the club, Alpha Carroll, and you too Alpha McMorran. I grant leave to any pride who does not wish to stay for the closing ceremony.”

“We wish to return Katharine to Wiltshire.” Adrian stated.

“And I want to go home.” Jensen said in a normal pitch for Jared’s ears, but just then another hush had fallen and his plea was clearly heard.

“Granted, my dear wolf,” Tim chuckled along with the few murmurs of laughter in the room.

Misha wrapped his arms around Eric, with Tyler making a Misha sandwich out of their stance. “Home, my love?”

“Haven?” Eric queried.

“Yes.” Misha decided. “Stephen has offered his transport. We can travel for your mother’s ceremonies in a couple of days.”

“I want to see Dad.... and Janette and Amelie.... and our nest.” Eric confessed, a tremble returning to his body as the adrenalin of battle drained away.

“Home.” Tyler agreed. “With Maxie.”

“To Haven.” Misha added, a feeling of gladness settled like a blanket. Amid the chaos, bereavement, trauma, regime changes, and fragile hope, he was grateful that they could go home to their family and to Tiree.


	12. Coming Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry you all had to wait so long. I wanted to post this tonight, otherwise you mightn't have got it until after I'm back from Asylum14.  
> Hope you will like the ending.

Gentle seas carried their party home. Misha assumed look-out station as soon as the ferry departed from its scheduled stop at Coll, watching Tiree grow from a welcome shape on the horizon to familiar rocky coastline with white sands. Finally the beckoning pier could be distinguished.

He was not alone. Eric, silent and calm like the waters below, stood sentinel with him. 

If he still smoked, Misha would have lit up, leaned against the railing and blew their troubles away in smoke rings. Instead he ensured some part of his body was in contact with his alpha mate. Both bone weary, it was maintaining this connection jointly held them up.

“You think Tyler’ll come find us?” Eric asked casually. Tyler and Jake had stayed inside, comforting overtired whining toddlers, Arden and Maxim. Mark too, had reluctantly refused a breath of fresh air, volunteering to referee a Janette and Amelie sibling dispute in Eric and Misha’s stead.

Misha shook his head, eyes following a seagull duo rising out to sea. Jesting, he drew a smile from his alpha, “Our omega knows he’s got us whipped. We’d better go indoors and prepare to disembark.”

Eric caught Misha’s hand, tight and insistent, as he made to pass by. 

“Mish?”

“Yes, Tiger?” The beta paused wide eyed.

“Thank you.”

“What?”

“For everything. For being my strength.” Eric bit his lip, eyes liquid once more.

“No, Darling. You don’t need to thank me.” Misha gushed.

“Yes. I do.” Eric was firm. “That night... you never faltered... not amid pride alphas and ravens...”

Misha silenced him with a hard pressed kiss. He nodded with understanding. There was no need for Eric to explain further. “I know.” 

Hands joined they searched out the rest of their party, who had already moved to the car deck.

Misha could not wait to be home, to sleep in his own bed, to be surrounded by friends and family, to return to his much loved life on Tiree. He held no illusions. Things would be different. Eric’s bereavement was raw. They also had an alpha toddler addition to their family, and the twins reaction to little Maxim to keep an eye on.

Although Stephen had offered his aid in getting everyone home to Haven as soon as possible, in the end Eric had understandably wanted to remain in respect of his mother. They had sat vigil over Kath’s body in Broads Alpha House then accompanied her final journey back to Wiltshire. Jared and Ossian had taken their families back to Tiree from there. The intervening days before Kath’s funeral ceremony were busy, as they helped new Alpha Adrian with arrangements and with greeting arriving dignitaries. The Baan Alpha’s funeral occurred before Kath’s, with many Pride Alphas flying to Northern Ireland first. The turnout for Eric’s mother was formidable, due to her standing and reputation, but also to support her family. 

There was an influx of raven-kind. Talon arrived from Austria with his mate Matilde, Eric’s Granduncle from Genoa, and a cousin represented the Carcassonne Nest. Mark and Ty both came from Haven. Stephen brought Aubrey. Showing unheard of respect Lupine-kind were also represented by Kevin and his mate Wade from Inverness, and Keith, the Cardiff Pack Alpha. Ancient Matriarch Benedict came for the Wolverines. With fox representatives, international feline Alphas, and human dignitaries, Wiltshire was bursting at the seams. 

As night fell, many stood vigil with the family at Kath’s burning pyre. By dawn, illuminated by fading orange embers in grey ash and husks of charcoal, Eric, Misha, Mark, Talon and Wiltshire Alpha Adrian remained. Tyler and Jake came then, with water, gentle caresses, and warm coats. The omegas used soft hands to coax Eric, Misha and Mark away and to their waiting children. Strained and almost unable to stand, they had made a nest in Eric’s childhood apartment, volunteered by the current residents. Daylight was slept through in a roost of raven forms with Jake and Arden’s wolves, Janette, Amelie, Tyler, Maxim and Misha’s cats.

Long deep conversations including Mark and Jake had helped Eric and his family through their early grieving. They’d agreed on doing all to secure Maxim Collins’ place in their family. Eric had confessed his lost wish that Kath would meet and hold his and Tyler’s future chick or chicks. Mark had shed his tears revisiting how Venny had never met Thalia, Eric or Arden, which was still a source of pain to the older alpha. Jake, who’d had a mixed up relationship with his mother, wished that Mildred had had her chance to see Arden and meet Mark. When Mark growled about words he would have had for his beloved mate’s mother then tagged on how proud Venny would have been of Eric, there were hot bittersweet tears of happy sadness.

Misha’s thoughts returned to the present as they sped towards Vaul Bay and home. He sat Maxim on his lap and was kept amused by his nephew rapt face as peeped above his tight-held blankie, taking in all the new sights. The crunch of wheels on gravel in front of Haven Inn was a sound that settled into Misha’s bones. Tyler graced him with the slightest smile of understanding as they silently concurred that there really was no place like home.

Ty came hurrying from the Inn, wiping his hands on his apron before opening his arms to welcome each one home.

“You’d think we hadn’t seen you for years, not that you only beat us home by 24 hours,” Mark quipped as he clapped his old friend on the arm.

“A homecoming deserves hugs,” Ty declared, before lifting a giggling Arden high and kissing the child’s brow, then grabbing Jake for an enveloping hug.

When Misha’s turn came he squeezed back as tight as he could, trying to transmit how grateful he was for Haven and for Ty’s support.

“Watch those arm muscles,” Ty grinned with a tease, “I need my indispensable baker back in the kitchen.”

“Ah-em, Ty about that,” Misha winced, “I might want to make arrangements so I can be at home more for Maxim. I know Willa would have him at the crèche if my shifts clash with when Eric and Tyler are at work, but he’s had a hard start...”

“Don’t worry,” The Alpha interrupted, “Family comes first, yes?”

Misha nodded, letting out a sigh of gratifying relief. He picked up Maxim, plunking him on his hip, for Ty to give the mini-alpha his own greeting. The toddler held on with a death grip but bravely allowed Ty to ruffle his hair. Little Maxim’s stiff reactions to senior adult alphas made Misha seethe at the way he imagined the poor boy had been taught to fear them at Piseagard. He was fine with Jared, Ossian and Eric, who he’d met first but had taken a little coaxing, and some Arden encouragement, to open his wary heart to Mark. This was only his second meeting with Ty, but it boded well that Maxim didn’t hide his face in Misha’s shirt this time. There were more alphas to meet at Haven, adults like Sean and Colton, and other alpha children, Conor and Isla. Misha had great hope that once Maxim adjusted to his new life, he would fit in seamlessly as one of the Haven family.

“Once you’ve dropped your bags, head up to Jared and Jensen’s place.” Ty smiled, tipping his head back towards the Inn, “We’re chokka with the birdwatcher tour group, so there’s a hot delicious meal waiting for you all at the bungalow.”

The thoughtfulness of Ty’s arrangements got a round of ready agreement from the returning party. Not having to cook, or to venture into the inn amongst tourists and patrons lifted Misha’s mood. Jake and Mark disappeared to the cottage with a promise to follow them up.

Opening Chapel door and breathing in the air of their home also brightened the triple mates’ spirits. With quick pecked cheek kisses for Eric and Tyler, Misha designated a spot for their bags to be dumped until tomorrow. He changed into old soft jeans and a well washed sweatshirt. He was tempted to copy Aubrey Amell and go barefoot but he found his ancient trainers under their bed. Retrieving Maxim from Janette and Amelie’s room, where the girls were entertaining an awed boy with their posters and Little Pony collection, Misha let the twins know they’d be ready to go soon.

“Mish?” Amelie asked, twirling her hair in her finger, “Will Daddy be OK?”

“We’re all here to make sure of that, and Eric knows it.” Misha smiled in reassurance.

“And will you be OK?” Janette checked, biting her lip.

“Me? I’m a toughie.” Misha joked.

Amelie huffed a laugh, “Yeah right, Mish, we know the truth!”

“Come on, Maxim,” Misha bounced his nephew on his hip, “We’re going before they give you ideas.”

“Go?” Maxim blinked in surprise.

“Yeah, we’re going to see Jared, and Jensen, and their kittens, and little Dallas will be there too.”

“Ooooh! I go cat!” Maxim cheered, slinking from Misha’s hold so the beta had to bend double to ensure he didn’t fall. With unfathomable speed and agility for a two year old, he was out of his clothes and purring with his tail raised before Misha could blink, think, or protest.

The twins collapsed back onto their beds.

“He’s an alpha handful.” Eric chuckled coming from the hallway. “Aren’t you, Maxie?”

The kitten preened for his fellow alpha.

Misha hummed, “I think we’ll let him get away with unilaterally declaring his actions just on this occasion.”

As it happened, Maxim also decided that he didn’t want to walk uphill to the bungalow and clawed his way up Tyler’s trousers to be carried. Misha just rolled his eyes while Eric continued his amusement, commenting, “We won’t spoil him, Mish my Love, but isn’t it nice to see him enjoying himself without fear.”

“You’re putting the antiseptic cream on my scratches,” Tyler elbowed his raven mate, but he also stroked the top of Maxim’s head in affection.

“Gladly, Petal,” Eric winked.

There was a full house awaiting their return and their chance to offer condolences and comfort. Fears Maxim might be overwhelmed were unfounded. Willa had commandeered Jared and Jensen’s sitting room, spreading rugs and cushions between pushed back furniture. All the younger kittens thoroughly enjoyed a surprise playtime once they’d eaten, even Lear’s tiny fox kits had a wobbly outing when they attempted to join in the chase and hide. Arden turned up with Damson, Isla, Finlay and Caitlin, making it the place to be. Damson used his charms on Jensen to ensure Mr Guffy could come meet Maxim along with his Wabbie-Bunny. 

Misha slipped from the kitchen diner, stretching his legs due to his full stomach of Josie’s fish stew, Claire’s buttery new potatoes, and Jared’s dumplings. There was retelling of The Moot and events going on for all those who remained at home. While Misha enjoyed his friends’ reactions, recounting all that had gone on was draining, and he took the chance to peek in on the younger Haveners. In the sitting room, Maxim was sitting on Conor’s lap staring at the kind-hearted older alpha boy in pure adoring awe. Somehow Arden had ended up with Guffy, Wabbie and Dallas on the seat cushion beside Conor.

“I think you have a fan, Conor,” Misha quipped with his head around the door. 

“Dad said he was a special kitten,” Conor tickled Maxim’s side, “and you’re Dad’s best friend, and you’re his uncle, so... and it’s cool to have another boy alpha cat.”

“All good in there?” Jared asked from behind.

Misha nodded.

“Come upstairs, I want a word,” Jared gestured towards his attic art studio.

“No need to ask me if I’m alright, Jaroslaw,” Misha replied with a touch of churlishness, “Like I said, been through the mill but we’ll be fine.”

Jared clucked his tongue at that statement and continued to lead the way.

On the canvas dominating the studio was a new piece, in outline with some subtle washes of initial colours, was a verdant wooded hill.

“Is that The Knock?” Misha huffed in mild surprise, “You’ve never done scenes from Piseagard since we got to Haven.”

Jared nodded, “It’s from memory. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll include Creiff in the foreground or a view back towards the pride. I’m hoping to gift it to Erica for her Alpha House when our trip to Piseagard is arranged.”

It was Misha’s turn to nod, “I think I’ll let you go first, Jared. Maybe a Padalecki and Craig party can venture back to Perthshire and suss it out, yeah?”

“Sure, Mish, geez I wouldn’t expect or even think you’d want to shoot off to Piseagard. It’s early days in Erica’s reign and I’m looking forward to helping her if I can. And to show Jen and the kids where we grew up.” Jared enthused.

“Ha! You gonna show Conor the knoll where we’d scoot off to?”

“Yep,” Jared laughed, “But I might not confess our snitched cigarettes or how we slipped away from the back of the crowd during Blackthorne’s interminable self-praising speeches.”

“I think I would like to return there in the future,” Misha spoke thoughtfully, “and bring the twins, and Maxim when he is older.”

“Plenty of time.” Jared agreed. “Though you’d be greeted like the heroes you are if your family came with us.”

Misha shook his head, “Not heroes. I’ve enough of being _heroes_ or _history makers_. There’s a high price to be paid for heroics. Poor Gary Carlyle widowed, those young betas who died in the fighting, and Eric’s Mum... why such sacrifice for a hopeful and positive result?”

“And the strain you were under,” Jared added.

“And in the middle of it Zlata vanished. Maxie’s too young to understand that she’s gone.” Misha rubbed his hand over his chin.

“Y’know, it’s early days but I think Maxim came out a winner.” Jared gave a half smile. “There were lots of winners, and those lost will never be forgotten.”

“You know, Erica’s got a council committee set up at Piseagard already,” Misha relayed what he had heard at Kath’s funeral.

“Yep, Ty said. Peter’s one of those on it, and our old neighbours Bruce and Kristen. Lucien from Deptford’s there at the moment, and one of the Manx Stanistreet alphas is heading there to stay with his cousins next week.”

“Good to see the offers aid at The Moot were not just hot air. Erica’s gonna need long term support.”

“What about down in Wiltshire? What did you think of Adrian?” Jared enquired.

“He’s solid and goodhearted. He exiled the Lehne family. Had to really. But Eric, in the middle of everything, had a quiet word with Rehka from Deptford, and Nicki moved straight to a new home in London.”

Jared opened his mouth to comment but a yell came from below.

“Jay Bird, are you and Misha up there?” Jensen called. “’Cause Ty’s arrived and we’re serving Amy and Matt’s strawberry mousse and chocolate melts.”

The two old friends jostled elbows and knocked knees in an effort to be first back the dining table.

“Honestly,” Jensen trilled along with the rest of their Pride Pack, “Impossible.”

“But ya love me,” Jared planted a sloppy kiss on his mate’s brow.

Misha beamed at the sight of everyone enjoying themselves. He spotted Jake stilling Arden’s grabby hands as they reached for the huge serving bowl of pink mousse. Damson from his spot on Matt’s lap was trying to shush his little nephew. Misha’s own nephew had taken a perch on Conor’s shoulders. Misha narrowed his eyes at a mousse-like smear on Maxim’s lips and a suspicious dip in the dessert. The bonny little boy licked it away quick, while Conor tried not to meet Misha’s eye.

When he raised an eyebrow at them, Maxim blinked and said “Oopsies.”

“I think I’m to blame,” Mark volunteered, as he pushed forward a chair next to Tyler and Eric for his son-in-law to sit down. “I was testing if our Maxim was allergic to strawberries.”

Misha guffawed and nudged the older raven, “A likely story.”

Mark huffed. “I’m sticking to it. Ask Jake.”

“Hey, Love, don’t you get me involved, I didn’t even get a secret taste from your fingers.” Jake fake pouted.

“I did.” Damson chipped in.

Ty halted his low chuckling to tap the side of his empty bowl with his spoon, “Before my second digs himself a hole all the way to Australia, how about we let dear Amy and Jensen dish out our delectable dessert.”

“Hear, hear,” Sean called from where he and Lear had taken stools at the breakfast bar, “And as a family of four we need a portion each.”

“Oh no!” Jensen jumped in rapidly, “You don’t get to fill that fox alpha tummy with three portions! Otherwise Jared’ll use it as evidence and order six adult portions.”

“Save us,” Ty proclaimed, “My Inn will be bankrupt!”

“Ha, ha, ha,” Jared said drolly, “Just for that I’m taking the serving bowl once you’ve all got a portion, and licking it clean in my cat form.”

Amy grinned, “I’m glad my offering has gone down so well.”

“Knew it would,” Matt and Colin said together, with the son adding, “And I’m sorry, Alpha Jared, but Dad gets to bring the bowl home and lick it clean in his fox form.”

“Gotya there, Jaroslaw,” Ossian cheered on the Cohen family.

Misha took Maxim from Conor. His nephew was sleepy after all his fun and the long day. Cradling him to his chest and humming a lullaby, he observed everyone’s mirth and joy. Eric ensured he didn’t miss out on their sweet treat, and Tyler lifted the bowl so Misha could eat with one hand, not disturbing Maxim. In a way, Misha too was cradled here, in the middle of all who loved him and who he loved in return. 

And that he figured was as a good a happy ending as any.


End file.
